Shattered Dreams
by Anemone Frost
Summary: *Finished* An alternate ending to the ROTK. Frodo claims the Ring, much to Sam's dismay. R rated for violence in later chapters. No F/S. R/R?
1. Default Chapter

****

Author: Anemone the Forsaken

Category: Angst

Rating: R

Characters: Mainly Frodo and Sam.

Warnings: Violence, torture, rape (In later chapters)

Disclaimer: Characters used are the property of Tolkien.

Feedback: Yes, please. :)

"I have come," he said. "But I do not choose now to do what I have come to do. I will not do this deed. The Ring is mine!" He set the Ring upon his finger and vanished from sight.

Sam gasped but he never had time to cry out for his legs were knocked from under him. Then, he was flung aside, striking his head on a rock. A dark shape sprang over him, madly dashing to where Frodo had once stood. All became dark to him then.

__

And far away, as Frodo put on the Ring and claimed it for his own, even in Sammat Naur the very heart of his realm, the Power in Barad-dur was shaken, and the Tower trembled from its foundations to its proud and bitter crown. The Dark Lord was suddenly aware of him. Then his wrath blazed in consuming flame, but his fear rose like a vast black smoke to choke him. For he knew his deadly peril and the thread upon which his doom now hung.

Wheeling with a rending cry, in a last desperate race there flew, faster than the winds, the Nazgul, the Ringwraiths, and with a storm of wings they hurtled southwards to Mount Doom.

Although dazed, with blood streaming down into his eyes, Sam got up. He found himself groping forward until his gaze fell upon a terrible sight. Gollum was before him wrestling like a mad thing with an invisible foe. Back and forth he swayed, drawing ever closer to the abyss. The creature hissed at the unseen foe but spoke no words. Closer and closer he was pushed to the edge of the crack. The fires below rose in anger, shooting lava near the feet of Gollum and Frodo. He was at the edge now, nearly being bent over toward the crackling flames. Fear finally settled in the creature's mind at the realization of the situation. His white teeth gleamed in the firelight. Gollum relentlessly snapped at his foe but the attack went unheeded. The creature's head snapped back as a blow grazed the side of his face, spraying blood everywhere. However, Gollum was filled with fury and he recovered quickly. His mouth closed around something and for a moment Sam cringed. But there came no cry. When Sam opened his eyes he found Gollum gnawing helplessly at Frodo's finger. The previous blow had knocked all his teeth out. Froth now developed on Gollum's blood stained lips. If he was mad before he had gone completely insane now. He flayed violently, trying to find any possible chance to escape but it was useless. There was no way he could compete with Frodo's newfound strength.

"You have tormented me for the last time you foul creature," Frodo boomed. "You shall never posses the Ring! It belongs to me and me alone!"

Gollum gave a strangled cry as he was launched forward. Into the depths of flame he went, shrieking for his Precious. Sam gazed in horror. The air in front of him rippled, slowly revealing Frodo's form. Fear strode into Sam's heart at the sight of his master. Still wearing the Ring Frodo stepped forward, his seemingly stretched out in welcome. Sam found no tenderness in it. Frodo was not himself. Blackness came over him; his beloved master was gone. Frodo's stature had changed; erect he stood and his shadow loomed over the cave walls. His eyes blazed at Sam's rejection and he strode closer to him. Sam cowered on the stone floor in utter fear. This was not his master.

"Why do you fear me so Sam?" Frodo asked, hurt in his voice. "I am your friend. I want you at my side when Sauron is dethroned and Middle-earth goes through the ultimate.....change."

"Mr. Frodo, please, take off the Ring," Sam begged. "It frightens me to see you this way. The power of the Ring cannot be used for good. You said that yourself once. Please, I beg of you master, take it off and throw it into the crack of doom."

Silence for what seemed forever. Frodo's smile twisted to one of untamed rage. With every step he took Sam crawled further back.

"I offer you unlimited power at my side, friend," growled Frodo, "and all you can do is try to thwart it?! I will not throw away such power! The Ring is mine and with it I shall rule all of Middle-earth!" His eyes lowered, forcing Sam to cower further into the ground. That look burned holes through him. "With or without you, Sam."

Tears sprung to Sam's cheeks. He sobbed when he felt a once familiar hand running through his curls. He didn't dare to gaze up.

"I would prefer you by my side, Sam," Frodo said, more softly. "You are a true friend and very dear to me. I would hate if anything were to happen to you, friend. No, I have decided. You will be by my side, whether willing or forced. You will be by my side for all eternity. I hope, for your sake though, that you come willingly. It would be just dreadful if I had to put any suffering over your shoulders. But first, there is someone that needs to be dealt with. Look up, dear Sam! Gaze upon my power! Gaze upon my servants!"

Reluctantly, Sam complied. What he saw sent chills down his spine. All was lost now, he truly knew it. There was no hope. Everything he had believed in failed. All around him were the eight Nazgul. They looked solely on Frodo with their piercing, red eyes. One of the wraiths walked toward him and once the creature stood before Frodo, he bowed. The others soon followed. Sam closed his eyes and wailed.

More to follow.


	2. The Beginning of Darkness

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Warnings: Bit of Sam torture. Nothing graphic, yet.

Frodo gazed upon the eight smiling wildly, his eyes gleaming with pride. The eight still remained on their knees before him, waiting to rise at his command. Sam stood and began to back step toward the entrance of the crack but he suddenly stopped. The piercing, icy stare of Frodo's eyes froze him to the spot. All he could was look on wide-eyed as one of the wraiths rose from the ground. A dark speech that Sam could not comprehend surged from Frodo's lip. The Nazgul understood, immediately stepping forward to the shaking hobbit. Sam squeaked and turned to flee. He made it no more then a few paces before a hand painfully grasped his shoulder and spun him face first to the stone floor. Sam grunted and lay still from the throbbing agony in his skull. He didn't stay still for long. The hand wrapped around Sam's neck, which touched a portion of bare flesh. A strangled cry echoed throughout the cave. It burned. Sam could feel smoke slowly rising from his flesh as the Nazgul's claw seared him.

"Please, Mr. Frodo, it hurts!" cried Sam. "Oh, please, make it stop!"

The plea was ignored. "Bring him here."

The world seemed to spin as he was hauled into the air. Gasps came from Sam when the cruel hand tightened on his neck, cutting into his windpipe. Smoke continued to trail from burning flesh. Tears sprung to Sam's eyes as he gazed into Frodo's, searching for any mercy; he found none.

Sam whimpered. "It burns. Please, make the Nazgul put me down Mr. Frodo."

"You forget who is master here, friend," growled Frodo. "Never bark an order to me again, less you want the pain to intensify." He turned to the Nazgul. "_Ghash_." 

Sam screamed. The heat increased to a smoldering fire, which coursed through the hobbit's frail body.

"Who is master here, Sam?" Frodo asked. "I want to hear it from your lips. Submit like a good servant."

The only response he gave was a groan. He would not acknowledge the creature before him as master. No, this thing before him was not his beloved master. The power of the Ring had completely taken Frodo over. He had to accept that. But there was a small portion of him that wanted to cling to hope; hope that his dear Frodo still existed in that body. 

"Answer me, _snaga_," Frodo hissed.

The word stung Sam's heart and he felt as if he could die on the spot. "I am not a slave, Mr. Frodo. I am your friend."

"We shall see in due time," answered Frodo. "You will not address me as Mr. Frodo; you will address me as master. Now, do it before I lose my temper."

Sam would still not answer.

Frodo spoke in the foreign tongue, leaving Sam confused. By the time he saw what was about to happen it was too late. The Nazgul rammed the hobbit against the stony floor eliciting a sharp scream. The agonized wail intensified as the creature pressed its armor-clad foot into the nape of Sam's back. The pointed tip of the boot dug into flesh, breaking out skin and blood.

"Say it."

Moaning, Sam shook his head.

"Say it."

Sharp pain spread throughout as the metallic tip drove deeper, halfway to touching bone.

"Say it."

The chant played back and forth in Sam's mind. Even through pain he would not speak. The Nazgul twisted its foot causing Sam to shriek.

"Say it."

Finally, Sam reached his breaking point. Anything to make the agony cease. He spoke in at a hair's whisper. "Master." 

"What?" Frodo inquired cruelly. "I cannot hear you. Say it louder so all may hear."

"Master," Sam choked.

"And who is your master, friend?" Frodo said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Frodo, please," begged Sam.

"Who is your master?" Frodo boomed.

Another cry came from Sam as the tip dug further, striking against his lower lumbar. "You are my master!"

"Hm, better then before I suppose," Frodo spat. "Once I have the time we will work on your...submissiveness. The Nazgul show more respect for their master then you do. Release him."

A sigh of content came from Sam. The Nazgul removed the jagged tip from within the depths of his body. Blood was now draining everywhere; staining Sam's cloak and hands. He stood and tried to press a portion of the cloak against the wound in attempt to lighten the flow. Frodo sneered at him.

"Poor Sam," he mocked. "Such a shame; such a shame. I sincerely hope you become more respectful. It would hurt me so to cause any more discomfort on you, friend."

Sam averted his eyes to the ground.

"Come, we fly to Barad-dur," Frodo commanded. "It is time to stake my claim; my rightful place. Take him."

He was borne on top the Nazgul's shoulders and carried from the fiery cracks. Soon, he found himself atop a winged, black steed. Behind him sat the wraith, which held him by the waist with one arm while using the other to take the reins. The other seven followed and Sam found Frodo riding next to him. They were in the air, flying at top speed high above the dead surface below. Nausea set in Sam's belly. The Dark Tower rose in the foreground. The dreaded tower was illuminated with an intense red light; the eye of Sauron. The red beam shot over the land and appeared to quiver when falling upon Frodo's form. Sam noticed the evil smile formed on Frodo's lips.

"Do you feel that, friend?" Frodo asked. "That is fear friend. The Dark Lord himself is terrified of me, as he should be. Once I rid the world of his pestilence I will change Middle-earth. Sauron is weak. He does not know how the world should be. I do. Everything will go through a metamorphosis. You will see, friend. All will be better."

"You may rid Middle-earth of Sauron's pestilence but you will replace it with your own," Sam groaned. "You are lost Frodo. How can you not see that you will destroy the world? All will not be for the better."

Frodo sighed. "I suppose you fail to see my vision for the world, Sam. Some day you will come to understand and accept that vision."

"I will never...."

"Did I say that you could speak?" Frodo snapped. "That seems to be your greatest fault, Sam. You speak too much out of term. You forget who your master is. Perhaps another demonstration is in order?"

Hands entwined in Sam's curls and he was lifted from the steed. He almost screamed not only from his tearing hair but the fact that he was dangled in mid-air, threatening to plunge to the depths below. His own hands flayed madly, trying to grasp at the larger ones gripping him.

"My, such a long way down is it not?" Frodo chuckled. "It is amazing how these wraiths follow my every order. They are such loyal servants, unlike you. Why, I could tell that one to loosen his grip and he would."

The hold on his hair began to slip. Sam's eyes became wide and brimmed with tears.

"Then again, I do not want to rid myself of you so soon, friend," Frodo continued. "I mean, one will always need a slave."

Sam was hauled back onto the steed. He groped at the side of his head finding small chunks of his curls missing. When the hand returned to the reins he found the missing clumps snagged in the gnarled fingers. He dared to shoot a glare at Frodo but quickly snapped back when the other hobbit looked at him.

"So much fight left in you," Frodo said. "That will change soon enough. It is obvious that you will never rule by my side, friend. I find that disheartening. I really wanted you there, but in a sense you will be, even if it will be in a lower form. Well, I have no time to discuss this now. The tower approaches. You and I will speak more on the matter once Barad-dur is under my power. Oh, but where will we openly debate such a thing? How do the dungeons sound to you?"

The Nazgul shrieked, forcing Sam to clutch at his ears. Barad-dur stood tall and dark before them.

Well, is it worth continuing? Review, please.

More to follow.


	3. Misery

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Warnings: Minor violence. Again, nothing graphic as of yet. 

Dread came over Sam when the tower came into full view. He wanted to get away; he did not want to go into that place. On several occasions he tried to back up but only succeeded in pressing his back against the Nazgul's chest. The creature hissed, annoyed at the movement, and cuffed Sam. He whimpered, so much pain, and placed a trembling hand to the wounded ear. Sure enough, there was bleeding. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to cease the ringing. A sharp, mocking, laughter forced his eyes open.

"I would advice you to hold still, friend," Frodo said. "The wraiths tend to perform drastic tasks when they think a prisoner is trying to escape. I hope you realize they can do a lot more damage then a bleeding ear. After all, you are such a frail hobbit and any real forceful blow could be your undoing. But you will see that soon enough."

"Frodo, master, we must turn around," Sam pleaded. "Something is amiss. I feel as if we are walking straight into a trap."

Frodo chuckled. "Oh, Sam. You and your outlandish ideas my dear boy. Never have I heard such nonsense from your mouth. Then again, you have always been somewhat of an idiot, haven't you Sam? I truly do not understand why I put up with you all these long years. Oh, yes, I remember now. You were a wonderful gardener and overall servant. Nothing much will change for you now, you will always be a servant and nothing more. Do you know why Sam? Because you are nothing. Why, if you weren't my friend I would consider you outright worthless, even though you truly are, and have you disposed of. I will find work for you, do not worry. I doubt you will ever set foot in a garden again. No, by the time I have finished with Middle-earth it will be pure luck if the hardiest of weeds grow."

Sam slumped in the saddle. "Oh, Mr. Frodo. What has happened to you?"

"Oh, do be quiet," Frodo snapped. "I really wonder how long I will be able to put up with your pitiful presence? I can barely sit next to you and keep myself from tearing you to shreds and it has only been a short while. I think eternity is far too much time to spend with you, Sam. Do not fear though. I will find a task for you to complete, even though you may not like what I have planned."

"Mr. Frodo....."

"You can never take a hint can you, friend?" Frodo growled. "Did I not just tell you to keep that mouth of yours shut? I fear I will have to silence you for a bit or I may do something drastic."

White-hot pain flowed through Sam's body. He would have cried out if the darkness had not swept over him. Frodo studied the unconscious form.

'What fun I will have with your misery, dear Sam.'

*

He awoke to find himself in what appeared to be a throne room. Torches hung from the walls but the shadows overpowered the light. Darkness was all around Sam; whispers were all around Sam; death was all around Sam. Rising to all fours, Sam found Frodo sitting at the throne. What he saw frightened him to the core for there was no emotion on Frodo's face. He could not tell the mood of the creature before him. Guilt washed over him at the thought of distrusting his master and considering him no longer to be a hobbit. He knew, however, that he had to accept it. Frodo was gone but he did not want to believe it. The eight wraiths were situated beside Frodo, swords drawn, gazing ahead of Sam like statues. The hobbit whimpered in pain as he rubbed the side of his head. The pitiful sound drew out laughter and when Sam turned around he saw a group of orcs standing near. He gazed back to his master.

"I am glad to see that you have finally risen," Frodo said. "It worried me so when you would not wake up. I feared you dead."

'He does care,' Sam's mind screamed. 'There is still a piece of my dear master left.'

"After all," Frodo continued, "what would I do for entertainment with you gone? What I am supposed to do? Torture an orc? I would not call that much fun."

Sam felt his heart shatter. "What do you have planned for me? Please, just let me go master. I am no threat to you. I want to return to the Shire."

"Do not make demands of me, servant," Frodo growled. "It seems you always forget your place so easily. No, I do not see myself letting you go any time in the future. As for the Shire, well, you will have to live on your cherished memories. In a short time there will not be a Shire left, along with the inhabitants. Now, getting back to the matter at hand. I cannot have servants running about without proper identification, now can I? You are nothing more then property and you will be marked as such."  


"What do you mean?" Sam asked, quivering violently.

"Why, I am going to have you branded of course," Frodo answered. "Try not to struggle, dear friend. It only makes the pain the worse. It will be over before you know it."

With a snap of his fingers the orc advanced on Sam, not even giving him an opportunity to flee. His struggles were useless against the strength of the creatures. When he lashed out with his arms, both were pinned to the floor. The same treatment was delivered to his legs. One of the orcs stepped to the hearth, running a steel rod through the hot flame. Sam begged and cried to his master but it went unheard. Frodo remained at his throne with a wicked smile across his face. His screams turned to gasps of disgust as one of the orcs ran its leathery tongue across his blood-crusted ear. Others snarled and fought, each wanting to taste the coppery fluid.

'Oh please, make it stop,' Sam cried in his mind. 'Make it stop. This cannot be real. I am asleep in a cave somewhere and when I wake up I will find my master sleeping beside me. This must be a nightmare. There is no possible way that this could be real. My dear Mr. Frodo would never harm me or let others do the same. This is not real. I want to wake up. Please, let me wake up and be safe. I know this is not real.'

'Oh it is real, dear Sam,' came a clear voice. 'It is very real. You are not asleep. I suggest you stop your miserable struggling. It will only cause you more pain but if you want to continue, by all means do so. Your misery is a welcome treat.'

The orc drew the rod from the hearth, now glowing red, and barked orders at the others. Sam was roughly thrown on his belly while a claw forced his head to stay down. All he could do was cry when the orcs shredded his cloak and shirt, which exposed his bare back. Black and blue marks were riddled everywhere from the previous encounter with the wraith but that was not what caught the orcs attention. A gapping hole was present in Sam's lower back, which had begun to scab. That did not last. The orcs began to finger at the wound eliciting sharp cries from the disabled hobbit. In no time blood was draining forth and trailing across his flesh. He could not count the massive amount of tongues that lapped at the liquid, only that he felt nauseated, and wanted to die more then anything. He caught a glimpse of the symbol, the eye, before it was plunged against his backside. Pain combined with another. It was becoming too intense. Orc were now scratching, digging, biting at his tender flesh in attempt to draw out more of the red fluid. Too much. It became too much. He was on the verge of passing, he could feel it. The room was spinning and his vision beginning to darken. The torment ceased. The orcs retreated from Sam as Frodo knelt beside him. Sam glimpsed into those once familiar eyes, now consumed with darkness, loathing, and desperation. Confusion and hurt filled Sam's.

"Why that symbol?" he weakly whimpered. "Why, of all accursed symbols, did you use the Eye of Sauron?"

Frodo would not answer.

"Where is Sauron, master?" Sam asked. "Have you truly destroyed him?"

Frodo still remained silent.

"Why do you not answer me?" Sam continued. "Is Sauron still alive?"

Only a blank stare was Sam's response. At that moment, Sam slipped off.

More to follow.


	4. Falling into Darkness

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Warnings: Bit more graphic torture and rape. Not F/S.

Frodo glared down at the listless body. He rose from the floor and moved to the middle of the room where a pedestal sat. A dark orb was centered between. The orb began to glow a bright blue as Frodo closed his eyes. It slowly rose from the pedestal and glided down to the palm of his hands. With the object in his grasp Frodo went back to Sam's unconscious form. He delivered a brutal kick to Sam's body, which sent the hobbit reeling. The force shook him back to consciousness.

"Come, now, you surly did not think that I would let you have a catnap at such a time, did you?" Frodo asked. "I have something very important to show you my dear friend. Something very important has taken place. The tide has taken a change over battle. Perhaps we should take a little look in the palantir, eh? After all, I doubt you would want to miss this."

Reluctantly, Sam gazed into the glowing ball. In doing so he found himself no longer in the tower but in the midst of battle. Confusion and fear were about him. Men had positioned themselves in a circle, back to back, with weapons drawn. Orcs were already descending upon them, trying to break through the barrier. The men held their ground but even Sam could tell they were weakening. His eyes soon fell upon Aragorn slashing wildly at anything that moved outside the circle. Gandalf had taken the rear. Gimili and Legolas were close at hand, Gimili hewing with his axe and Legolas shooting with superb accuracy. Pippin was at the center of the circle. Turning his head, Sam found myriads of orcs flooding from the gate as well as the rocky terrace. The men were helplessly outnumbered. But in the battle came a course cry. 

"The eagles! The eagles are coming!"

Sure enough, high in the sky, the shadowy forms of birds were approaching. The men rose in an uproar of joy and confidence. The fighting had momentarily ceased. A low rumble echoed through the canyon and it quickly grew. Bolts of light suddenly grazed across the sky and men and orc alike had to shield their eyes from the intensity of light. Sam could see though. The distant forms had fallen. Once the men regained their vision they realized the loss. The sky was empty and any hopes of salvation had disintegrated. They were trapped and they knew it. Most continued to fight valiantly as the orcs advanced, while others threw down their weapons and welcomed the jagged edge of an orc blade, others attempted to flee though they did not travel far. 

Sam looked about, in the midst of chaos he could not find Aragorn, nor Gimili, or Legolas, not even Gandalf. He saw Pippin, though, just as a massive hill troll collapsed on him. He cried out and tried to rush to his aid but found himself glued to the spot. He could not move any part of his body.

Aragorn, desperately trying to rile his men, called out to them in the distance. "Men, men, stand your ground! Stay in place! If you panic and desert the barrier the orcs will break through!"

No one listened. All, even the bravest, were beginning to lose heart. They fled down the path, ran toward the gate or even tried to climb the sharp peaks. Every last one of them met with the same fate. A few men remained around Aragorn, fighting to protect their would be king. All fell soon enough. Aragorn backed up at the advancing orcs but was aided by Gimili and Legolas. Gandalf was no where in sight. Pippin was still visible, even though the only visible part were his legs dangling under the troll corpse. The orcs were closing in now, surrounding the three remaining warriors. Three against so many, they did not stand a chance. Orcs charged at the three instantly separating them from each other. Legolas was swarmed by the horde and went silently. Gimili was the next to follow, receiving a blow to the side of the head. Aragorn was last, falling to his knees as a sword pierced his back.

The battlefield was a blood coated mess in the end. Bodies were riddled everywhere along with various body parts scattered to and fro. Sam closed his eyes in horror as the orcs began to feast on the deceased.

Brought back to reality, Sam screamed. Slumping to the floor he began to wail bitterly. Frodo stood proud, smiling confidently.

"Do not waste your tears on them, friend," Frodo said. "It is such a waste of good pain."

"How could you allow such an atrocity?" yelled Sam, froth forming on his lips. "They were our friends! Aragorn, Gimili, Legolas, Gandalf, and Pippin! How could you allow this?! My God, Pippin was your cousin and you just stood by and watched him die?!"

"And I shall truly miss him," Frodo replied, faking sympathy. "Indeed, it is such a tragedy to lose a beloved family member. Especially one as young as him. Then again, he did not suffer nor did the others. They went quite peacefully as far as I am concerned. There are worse ways to go you know. Besides, Aragorn had to be killed. As a heir of Gondor he would never allow me to rule over him. He would have hounded me to the point where there would be no choice but to dispose of him. The battle was the safest and easiest way to rid myself of him. I should let you know he did most of the work for me. After all, who marches seven thousand men into a canyon and not expect an ambush? As for Legolas and Gimili, well, they were expendable. I have no use for them and what is the point of keeping worthless junk around? Gandalf is another story. He was one of the few that died in a more gruesome manner. He was captured in battle and I guess the orcs were looking for someone to torture. You know how it is. Those orcs and their adorable games. It is really quite a fascinating story; I really enjoyed watching it. You know, they gauged his eyeballs out, chopped off his legs, and then burned him to ashes. I was amazed, really. He was still very much alive when he was set aflame. Ah, the noises he made were music to my ears."

Sam wept. "Merry, Pippin....."

"Oh, do not fret over it," Frodo said. "I am not completely heartless. As I said, their deaths were painless."

"But Merry was not present at battle," Sam said.

"No, he was in the stronghold of Minas Tirith," began Frodo, "or what is left of it anyway. The place is nothing more then a pile of rubble now, the inhabitants slaughtered, and the land desiccated. I do not think I need to tell you what happened to Merry. He was in miserable shape anyway. Such terrible injuries he suffered at the hands of the Nazgul. He was on his way to death so I just quickened the pace. Speaking of which, I have sent a troop marching toward the Shire. Not a large one mind you. It will not take long for the place to be overwhelmed. The troop shall arrive in two weeks. It is amazing how fast a troop may travel when you give them inspiration."

"What do you mean?" asked Sam.

"Well, I told them to slaughter everyone in sight," replied Frodo. "That alone seemed to delight them but that was not all. I gave the orcs permission to have a little play time with the hobbits."

"You cannot do that!" Sam cried, rising to his feet. "Mr. Frodo the Shire is our home! You cannot have it destroyed! Oh, you must stop them!"

"I will do whatever I please," Frodo growled, "and you of all people will not tell me otherwise. Do you need another lesson about where your place is?"

"No," Sam said, lowering his head. "I know where my place is and it is not here nor by your side. You were my master once, Mr. Frodo, but not any more. I wish...I wish you would return to normal, to be the kind, gentle hobbit you once were. The change you have gone through is unnatural. I know the Ring's power is great and terrible but for such a drastic transformation in you? I cannot believe it. There must be more to this, something else must be controlling you, controlling your every move."

"How dare you speak to me in such a manner!" Frodo hissed, fire gleaming in his eyes. "Nonsense! Every word of it!"

"My, how defensive you have become," Sam said. "Why the sudden hostility, master?"

"Be silent," Frodo warned.

"Perhaps you do not want to admit that you are being ruled over?" Sam continued. "It must be embarrassing to be nothing more then a mere pawn in someone else's game. Tell me, Mr. Frodo, who is your master?"

"I have no master," Frodo growled. "No one rules over me."

"Come now, you do not really expect me to fall for that do you?" asked Sam. "After all this time it makes perfect sense. It takes years of expertise to harness all of the Ring's power. There is no possible way you could have done all this without help. Who is helping you, Mr. Frodo? Or should I say, who is using you?"

"Silence," Frodo snarled, his jaw clenching.

"I should have known, you cannot even see it," Sam sighed, shaking his head. "Someone or something is manipulating you to their will. You claim to be all-powerful, how could you not see that? I have spotted it, why not you? Maybe you do not want to accept the idea. I wish you could see it master, your blindness will be the death of you in the end."

Frodo snorted. "Your constant, running mouth may be the death of you, Sam. My temper is beginning to stale around you, friend. If you wish to live to old age and still be in one peace I suggest you watch your tongue."

Sam gazed up at his master. "I will not live under your horrible rain. I would rather die."

Frodo gasped at the comment and stepped back. Anger and confusion were boiling inside him, Sam could see it. Before Frodo could react Sam bolted across the room. The orcs came lunging at him but he was able to dodge them, ducking and weaving under their legs. In the distance he found his destination. An open window and beyond it lay his salvation. He continued running, running until his legs throbbed in agony, until the cries of his master from behind grew hoarse, until he could feel the bitter wind on his cheeks. He was closing in and when he came to the windowsill he leapt on top and continued forward. No, he was not about to stop for anything in the world. His body went threw and he found himself falling, face down toward the ground. It was unbelievably high. Time itself felt slow as he tumbled. A tear fell down his cheek; it felt good to be free, even for a brief time. He closed his eyes and waited for impact. He never reached the ground. Instead, he felt something take hold of his body and haul him back up to the tower. The metallic armor, a burning touch, he did not have to open his eyes to realize what had captured him. 

Back in the room, he was flung to the floor. Rough hands seized him by his curls, pulling hard enough to break the skin. Sam's eye shot open from the pain and was greeted by Frodo's icy blue orbs.

"You will never escape me," Frodo growled.

*

Only two days had passed and it felt as if months had went by to Sam. He was down in the dark, cold cell of the vast dungeon. He was clothed only his pants and the bitter cold stung at his flesh, especially the branded area. Food and drink had been denied to him, which left him weak and thin. Orcs would often leer into the cell waving bread or wine at him. As always, he would ignore them. It did not matter to him. If starvation led to his death he would welcome it; it was a far better way to go then the unspeakable tortures he was forced to witness. 

Also within this time period Frodo had often removed him from the cell to travel to the torture chamber. Sam soon found out that not all men were killed in battle. A shudder ran down Sam. He could not get the heinous images out of his mind. 

__

"Why have you brought me here, master?" asked Sam.

"To show you something, friend," Frodo replied.

"To show me what?" Sam continued.

"You shall see," Frodo said.

The room was lit with small torches. In the glow massive forms were riddled across the walls. The glow of their flesh was an angry red but it was not the illuminating light of the fire that had turned their skin that color. Orcs were all about; slashing, whipping, or biting at any thing that writhed or appeared sullen. Sam felt a growing wave of nausea in his stomach.

"What is the matter?" Frodo asked. "Why the sudden sickness in you, friend? Their suffering has yet to begin. Believe me when I say you have a lot left to see."

Sam watched as Frodo motioned at several of the orcs who, in seeing their master's command, yanked down a nearby prisoner. Another orc brought a wheel, nothing extraordinarily special, just an ordinary wheel that pulled carriages. Confusion spread over Sam. A wry smile formed on Frodo's face as he caught it.

"I think you will enjoy what that wheel shall be used for," Frodo chuckled. "Quite ingenious, I must admit." 

The orc placed the wheel on the floor and helped lower the squirming man to it. His arms and legs were twisted, forcefully woven into the spokes. Splinters from the snapped wood dug into his flesh drawing out red fluid. Sam could only look on in horror at the grisly sight; he could not peel his eyes away. The man appeared to be nothing more then a huge screaming mass writhing in rivulets of blood; a mass of raw, slimy and shapeless flesh mixed up with splinters of smashed bones. Orcs dragged the man to a levy where, upon looping a rope through the spoke, the wheel was lifted into the air. Screaming in agony the man was thrown out the window, still ensnared in the wheel. For a moment the rope dangled, but then ceased. Sam groaned, placed his hand over his mouth, and turned away.

"Why are you showing me this?" Sam asked. "It does not make sense. Why all this?"

"Why not?" Frodo asked. "I am only getting use out of these men. After all, I have no need for them. I could just let them rot in a cell but where is fun in that?"

"Are you trying to gain confessions from these poor souls?" asked Sam. "What confessions do you need to entice such misery?"

"No confessions," Frodo answered. "I need no information from these men. I see everything, friend. Nothing can hide from me."

"Then why all the suffering?" Sam cried, rubbing at his temple.

"Oh my dear, sweet Sam," Frodo chuckled, shaking his head. "How such innocence stayed in you after all this time is a mystery to me. You spoke of me being blind once but it is you who are truly blind. Watching others pain is a delight for me, Sam." His body suddenly slumped, eyes downcast, face appearing worn, he spoke almost in a whisper. "For it takes my mind off my own pain."

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked.

His demeanor changed. "In time you will grow to appreciate as I have," Frodo said. "You just need a little work."

"Still, you have not answered me, master," Sam said. "Why are you showing me this?"

"Because I know how much you hate it," Frodo said. "I know what it does to your heart being forced to watch an innocent being in misery. I know it will break you. In time it will break you down."

"Break me down into what?" inquired Sam.

"Why, you shall have to wait and see," Frodo said. "I do not want to ruin the surprise."

A scream echoed from the windowsill. 

"Do you hear that friend?" Frodo asked. "Do you know why he is yelling in such pain? The birds are pecking at his flesh. Perhaps you would like to see, eh? It really is a messy sight. Holes of leaking blood all over, eyeballs gauged and consumed, tongue shredded to pieces. Would you like to see that?"

"No, no," Sam begged. "Please, no."

As usual his pleas were ignored. He was shoved toward the window and forced to look down. The crows were feasting. He vomited.

Back in his cell Sam curled into a ball. The atrocities he had witnessed repeated over and over in his mind. He could hear footsteps in the distance. What heinous act he would watch today was a mystery. It was becoming too much for him; he could sense he was breaking. The cell door opened revealing Frodo's form. Looking down at Sam, he motioned for two orcs to enter. They grasped the hobbit by the arms and began to drag him out, heading for the chamber. Sam's ears perched, there were no cries coming from the room. All was deathly silent and Sam feared for himself. Door opened, he peered into the room. No one was left alive. Bloodstains covered the walls and floors. A fresh body, perhaps only an hour old, still remained on the rack, stretched to unbelievable proportions. On the wall a body hung limply in a hammock of chains. His eyes were lifeless and staring, his mouth open in a silent scream. The man had been gutted, his torso split from chest to stomach. Inside the empty cavity his ribs gleamed dully. All of his bodily fluids had been drained from him. What remained was a husk, a horrid corpse that was once a person. Bodies were scattered everywhere in similar fashion.

"I will ask you one final time," Frodo said. "Will you join me or will I have to take drastic measures?"

"I already told you once, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied. "I would rather die then be by your side or as your servant."

"If that is what you wish then it should be granted," Frodo sighed. "Though, it will be anything but slow. I can only hope for you sake that you change your mind. In the end, I think you will. After all, you never were really strong when it comes to handling pain. Maybe it would be best to give you a little taste of what you will experience before making any final decisions."

Before Sam could say a word the orcs had bound his wrists behind his back. A rope was lowered from the ceiling and looped around the knot. Sweat formed on his brow; he knew what was coming and thrashed violently. An orc began to tug at the rope, which slowly pulled on Sam's wrists. With each tug he cried out and desperately tried to escape; with each tug he was an inch further from the ground. Slowly, he was hauled into the air by his wrists screaming in agony. It felt as if his arms would snap at any minute. For a moment he was suspended high in the air. Pressure in his arms increased. When he thought he could take no more he was released. He hurled to the ground but before he crashed the rope snapped still, which jerked at his arms. A strangled cry came from his lips. The pain was unbearable. Again, on Frodo's command, Sam was hoisted into the air a few feet higher then before by his wrists. He dangled longer this time, having to endure the awful strain. Below him the orcs laughed; below him Frodo smiled. Released yet once more, Sam went tumbling down. This time, as he was jerked, there was a snap followed by his scream; his arms were dislocated. Still, Frodo commanded him to lift again. He was dropped a total of twenty times; each attempt feeling as if his arms were to be completely torn off.

"Untie him," Frodo said. "Do what you will with him. I care not. Just remember to disable him and make sure not to kill him. I do not want him running off like he did before. He will not escape."

"Mr. Frodo," Sam weakly said. "Why? Why do you torment me?"

Silence for a minute. "Because I can."

The orcs swarmed around him. One of the orcs that groped his side fell dead with the wave of Frodo's hand.

"None of that though," Frodo said. "Do not think for a second that I will not catch you if perform that act. I will and those who do it shall suffer a far worse fate then the men. If you are into that sort of thing then I have no problem with you stripping him. But you may go no further then that."

Growls in agreement followed. Frodo headed for the door, ignored Sam's desperate pleas, and vanished into darkness. Malicious, yellow eyes glared down at him. He could see everything in those eyes; everything planned to make him beg, wail, and moan. Sharp claws tore at his trousers also succeeding in tearing the flesh on his thighs. Several of the orcs disobeyed their master's orders. It started off with minor groping and fingering until one of the orcs grabbed Sam's waist and forced his rear into the air. The others became frenzied at the hobbit's strangled cries as the one orc forced his way into the tiny body below him. Sam could not keep count of how many times he was taken at the hands of the orcs only that each one brought the throbbing, burning agony to a new height. Once they had their fill Sam laid on the floor in a leaking mess of blood and semen. The torment was far from over though.

He forced up and stood bound and naked in the presence of the grim orcs and watched the iron prongs heated, the pulleys of the rack tested, the blades sharpened all in preparation for their use on his body. It was hard to imagine he would come out of this alive.

When the orcs had tired of his cries and draining blood he was left alone on the chamber floor. His breaths were ragged; his body ached in sharp pain. No part of his flesh had been spared to claw, tooth, or steel. His arms dislocated, his legs broken, he could not move. He prayed for death to come; it never came.

More to follow.


	5. Trickery

****

Warnings: Torture and death. Not into that? Then hit the back button. You have been warned. 

Soft hands stroked the side of his face. Slowly, Sam's eyes fluttered open to find Frodo kneeling over him. There was gentleness in the caress, a feeling Sam thought he would never feel again from his master. He pushed it aside though, he knew better. A silk sheet had been placed over his naked body, which instantly dampened with flowing blood. A whimper came from the hobbit as the other ran his hand along his backside, brutally raw. Sadness seemed to flicker in Frodo's eyes and for a moment Sam could have sworn the blue fire in the orbs had dimmed. His seemed worn and ragged.

"I am sorry," Frodo said, true sympathy lacing his words. "I did not intend for this abomination to happen to you. Believe me when I say that. I never intended this."

"How could you not see it coming?" Sam muttered, hostility forming. "You left me alone with orcs. What did you expect to happen? When do those creatures ever obey their orders? They always give in to their lusts."

Frodo wiped at his eyes. He ignored Sam's words. "Those who defiled you have been taken care of. If it is any comfort I have made their deaths extremely painful. I had them gradually boiled alive in oil. I wish you had been awake to witness it. I am sure their cries would have brought you joy the way yours must have brought them. There are a few still left alive. Would you accompany me to watch? I have no doubt it would be a great retribution to you."

"It comforts me not," Sam groaned. "You should know that. Death of others will never be a release for me. Tell me, does it please you to see me this way? It must. It is what you wanted, is it not? To break me. Well, you have yet to succeed. I am not gone and I will not go quietly."

Frodo sighed, wiped away the tears, and grew stern. "My dear Sam, I never wanted it to go this far. It is your stubbornness that continues your torment. I can end it all for you, you know. All the pain can be gone with just a few simple words. Tell me Sam. Tell me to end your misery. I can do it. Life can be a delight for you again. All you want could be yours, Sam. I know what you want. Just tell me those few simple words and it will be done."

"What I want, you cannot give me," Sam sobbed. "You are destroying the world around us. All I ever wanted is in that dying world. I only want a nice home, a family, and a garden. Now that you have claimed possession of the Ring it will never happen. Middle-earth is a wasteland. There is nothing left for me."

"But I can give you that," Frodo pressured. "Sam, not all of Middle-earth is a wasteland. I have done some consideration and have decided to spare a portion of The Shire. I cannot deny, most of the land has been ravaged but a small portion yet remains under heavy guard. Do you know what section has been spared?" Sam shook his head. "Why, the land surrounding Old Cotton's Farm. Does that name ring a bell to you?"

"Rosie," Sam muttered, wide-eyed.

"Ah, I thought you would remember," Frodo chuckled. "After all, who could forget such a lass? I knew you always had your eye on her. It was quite obvious. I suppose you could still have that nice home, that garden, and that family. I am sure Rosie would make a fine wife and produce such wonderful children. Why, if you did not already have your sights on her I might have snatched her up."

"Rosie, where is she?" Sam asked.

"I am glad you asked," Frodo said. "As we speak she is being sent by several of my personal escorts."

"You did not," Sam muttered, terrified. "Tell me you did not send the Nazgul."

"Of course I sent the Nazgul," Frodo snapped. "After seeing what the orcs just did to you I could only imagine what indescribable acts they would do to her. The Nazgul were the only ones I could trust. They do not indulge their primary needs. Do not fret over it. I am certain she is alright."

"Why are you bringing Rosie here?" Sam asked. "This is no place for her."

"Indeed it is not," Frodo answered. "And how pleasant her stay is will be entirely in your hands."

"Leave her alone," Sam moaned. "Please, return her to The Shire."

"What is it?" Frodo asked. "You do not want her now. Well, that is a shame. Since you will not be around to keep her warm, perhaps I will."

"You wouldn't," Sam growled.

"Hm, you really do not know me, do you Sam?" Frodo chuckled. "Rosie will be here soon. I should go out to greet her. I would not be considered a gracious host if I left her standing out the cold, would I?"

"Leave her alone," Sam hissed. "I swear if you touch one hair on her body I will...."

"You will what?" Frodo snapped. "Do not make such empty threats. I warned you once about doing that. Now, I must tear myself away from you for she is waiting. You will see her later. Consider what I have said and offered to you, friend. I would advice you make a decision soon, if you want less pain for yourself and your little sweetheart." Frodo turned but then changed his mind. "What am I thinking? If you are to accompany me later you must have usage of your legs and arms. My, how my mind wanders sometimes."

He bent to the ground, placed his hand on Sam's forehead, and chanted inaudible words. Warmth surged through Sam's body and a white light came over his eyes. When the light vanished the pain dissipated along with it. Sam glared down at his body and gasped. Not only were the cuts and burns gone but he could move his arms and legs also.

He glanced up at Frodo with a questioning look. "I thought you wanted to break me."

Frodo gave a hearty laugh. "Yes, of course I want to break you, friend." He leaned over to hiss in Sam's ear. "But I want to break your soul not your body. Keep that in mind. Wounds on the surface can easily be mended but wounds on the inside may take a lifetime, if that, to heal." 

"I will end up dead before you can succeed," Sam snarled.

"We shall see," Frodo said. "Choose your words carefully, Sam. You may end up eating them in the end. I fear that you need some sort of inspiration to cooperate. I may have found it."

*

Later that day Sam was escorted from his cell. He found himself heading for that dreaded chamber again and fear began to rise in him. The despicable acts that took place in that room came back to haunt him. His feet grew heavy and his steps slowed. The orcs got him moving soon enough with a few rough nudges. Door opened, Sam was shoved inside. Frodo was a few feet away from him staring at the wall. Someone was in front of the hobbit but blocked Sam from gaining a clear view of the person. A soft whine was all Sam needed to identify them. He broke free from the orcs and dashed forward. Not thinking clearly, he ran straight into Frodo, knocking the other hobbit to the floor. Before Sam could reach the person a hand took hold of his foot and pulled up. He too wound up on the ground but in far more pain than the hobbit beside him; his ankle was sprained.

"Now, that was not very polite Sam," Frodo scolded. "You should know better then to run like a wild thing. It can wind up harming other people or in this case, you. I have a nice little surprise for you but I suppose you already know whom it is, judging by your reaction."

"Sam," a weak voice murmured.

"Oh, Rosie, my Rosie," Sam whimpered, crawling to her form.

Rosie was huddled on the floor shivering violently. Her dark curls swayed as she gazed into Sam's eyes. Sam was glad to note she was still in one piece but there was visible bruising on her face. He stretched his hand to her, trying to make any contact. In return she too reached out but it was not meant to be. Frodo stepped between the two and kicked Sam's hand away, forcing it to the ground. The hobbit placed all his weight on Sam's hand causing the other to cry in pain at the crushing force.

"You will touch when I say you can," Frodo hissed, removing his foot. "Now, be a good little hobbit and stay still."

The harshness in Frodo's voice sent chills down Sam's spine. He found himself glued to the spot in fright. Smirking, Frodo clasped his hands around Rosie's locks and tugged. She cried in pain and desperately fought to stand, trying to alleviate the pressure on her head. Frodo knocked out her footing and she fell to the floor, minus a chunk of curls. The torn scalp began to bleed.

"Stop!" Sam wailed. "Leave her be for God's sake! Do not hurt her!"

"But I fear I have no choice, Sam," Frodo said. "You will not cooperate with me so I have to take it out on others. I will stop, though, if you so wish. All you have to do is ask. You should know by now."

Sam became silent.

"As I thought," Frodo darkly chuckled. "You think I will not go far with this torment, do you? If you think this you are gravely mistaken, friend. I give you one final chance to speak up for I tend to lose myself in the midst of torture. Any words spoken at that time will go unheeded. So, will you accept?"

Sam lowered his head, still silent.

"Very well," Frodo said, moving toward Rosie.

"Wait, please!" Sam yelled. "Your battle is with me, not her! If you are looking for someone to beat then by all means do it to me but not her! I beg of you let her go! Please, take it out on me!"

"Take what out on you Sam?" Frodo asked. "I have no anger toward you. Besides, what is the point in torturing a willing host when I have an unwilling one here? I will stop. Just say the word and I will."

Sam shook his head.

Frodo's fist slammed into the side of Rosie's cheek.

Sam would still not answer.

Another blow was delivered, this time striking her nose. A loud pop echoed through the room. Blood was streaming down her lips.

Sam shook but did not mouth any words.

"My, such a sacrifice you are willing to make," Frodo cruelly laughed. "I cannot believe you will allow such a lovely creature to suffer. Why not end it?"

Sam looked away.

Frodo motioned for the two orcs and they took Rosie by the arms. She was dragged and hauled onto a nearby table. Above the table stood a pulley, lined with razor sharp spikes. Alongside the table, on silver tray, sat various instruments. Knives, hooks, pinchers, it was all there. Nausea swept over Sam. He tried to rush to the table but was unable; he was frozen to the spot with a clear view. One of the orcs took the pinchers and dug them into the flaming hearth. Within minutes the object was pulled out glowing a bright red. Handed back to Frodo, the hobbit turned to briefly smile at Sam before plunging the pinchers into Rosie's belly. Anguished shrieks echoed throughout the room. The cries only seemed to entice Frodo, digging the pinchers further into the soft flesh. Blood gushed from the wound as he pulled the metallic object from her belly. Using his hands, Frodo delved into the wound and swished around, searching. A gleam formed in his eye as he found what he was looking. Painfully slow, he pulled his blood coated hands from inside Rosie's gut with his fingers wrapped around an intestine. Rosie threw her head back and wailed. Occasionally she would glance at Sam with a silent plea. All Sam could do was watch and sob and whimper apologies. He turned to Frodo.

Sam's face paled and he swayed slightly. "No, stop. Please, master, stop."

"You know what you must say," Frodo said. "Say it and I will end her misery."

"I will not," Sam replied.

"Then I will not stop," Frodo shot back.

"Stop, please, I am begging you," Sam screamed, falling to his knees. "Master, mercy, please!" 

Frodo ignored him. He entwined the intestine around the pulley and began to twist. Gradually, the intestine wound around the pulley and grew larger and larger. Rosie had stopped screaming. Her eyes were wide; sweat had formed all over her pallid face and slid down in droplets.

"I do not think she has screamed enough," Frodo said. "Perhaps it is time to perform something else. After all, she does not have much time. Shock is already starting to set in and I would like to hear a few more anguished cries before she cannot feel anymore."

"What?" Sam asked.

"Hm, I wonder if I should tear into her face," Frodo continued. "Maybe thrust the point of the pincher under her jaw. Pierce her tongue and cranium at the same time. Wait, no, that will not work. She would perish too quickly. Maybe I could tear off her nose, or how about gauging her eyes out? Does that sound gruesome enough for you, Sam?" The other hobbit groaned. "I agree. Perhaps I should brand her but, oh; there is no real use in that I suppose. It seems all the time I have wasted speaking to you she has gone into shock. Well, poor Rosie does not appear to have much time left. Would you like to come over and say some last words? I suggest you do it while she is still coherent."

Sam quickly ran to her side, taking her cold, sweaty palm in his hand. He kissed it over and over with tears dripping down his face.

"Oh God, my Rosie," Sam whimpered. "Oh, I am so sorry. Please forgive me."

Rosie gave him an answer. With little strength she had left she slammed her hand across his face. Tears were streaming down his face now. Confusion spread all over him.

"Why did you not help me?" Rosie hissed. "All you did was stand there and watch me suffer. Why?"

"I am sorry!" Sam wailed. "He would not stop no matter how hard I begged!"

"You should have given him what he wanted," Rosie growled. "I am amazed he has not killed you yet. Worthless. You are worthless. I wish I had never met you, Sam. If I hadn't I would not be dying here in a cell. You could have helped me but I suppose a coward cannot do much."

"Rosie," Sam cried. "I love you."

Silence.

Frodo leaned over Sam's shoulder. "Would you like me to end her misery? Would you like me to give her peace?"

His vision became blurry and his mind raced. Lowly, he spoke. "Yes."

"Tell me," Frodo hissed. "You have to tell me what you want."

"I want you to end her suffering," Sam murmured, clenching his eyes shut. "I will do anything you ask. I will become your partner or you slave. I will do whatever you wish just as long as you give her rest."

A triumphant grin formed on Frodo's face. "All you ever have to do is ask."

Frodo moved to Rosie's side. He ran his hand alongside her face and cupped her cheek while his other snaked around her throat. With lightening speed, he snapped her neck. Sam gave a startled cry and shoved Frodo aside. The hobbit cradled Rosie in his arms weeping bitterly.

"What have you done?!" screamed Sam. "I did not ask for this! I asked you to release her from the pain!"

"But that is exactly what I have done, dear Sam," Frodo said. "You asked me to end her suffering, so I did. As you can see, she is no longer in pain."

"I did not mean it that way and you know it!" Sam cried.

"Then next time I suggest you word what you want a little more carefully," Frodo chided. "Oh, do not make such a big deal over it. Look at the so called hobbit you hold."

Gazing down, Sam found he no longer held Rosie but a melting mass. The hobbit form has vanished which left a slimly, black sludge coating Sam's arms. Disgust rose up in him as he fought to wipe the residue off.

"What is the meaning of this!" Sam bellowed.

"I so enjoy my work," Frodo said. "Do you like it? She almost looked like the real Rosie, did she not?"

"What do you mean?" asked Sam.

"That thing was not real," said Frodo. "I created a look alike to Rosie. I thought you would never give into me. I suppose I underestimated you. Well, I am a bit surprised."

"Then, Rosie is still alive?" Sam asked, hope shinning in him. "She is alright?"

"Oh, I would not think that far ahead," Frodo chuckled. "I did bring her here over an hour ago. I must say, she was just as beautiful as I remembered her to be. Quite a timid creature. The poor dear. I was going to use her to blackmail you a bit but I changed my mind. I knew you would not give in, even for her. I had no use for Rosie so I let the orcs have her. Her corpse, what is left of it, is in the courtyard. The last I saw of it was quite messy. Those orcs did a real number on her. I would let you see but what is the point in it? After all, orcs tend to eat what they kill."

Sam became dizzy.

"Do not worry though. She did not suffer entirely at the hands of the orcs. I think she had a moment's pleasure, when I forced her into my bed."

The last words stung at Sam's heart. He glared up at Frodo in rage.

"You should not give your master such a look, Sam," Frodo warned. "I hope you remember our little agreement. You belong to me now."

"You tricked me!" Sam spat. "I will never be your servant! You do not own me!" He grasped his head. "My Rosie. My dear Rosie. You will pay for what you have done to her!"

"More empty threats?" Frodo sighed. "You seem to be getting good at speaking those. Can you follow through on one?"

Sam leapt forward tackling Frodo to the ground. The hobbit was momentarily taken off guard but soon shot up. A damaging kick was delivered to Sam's head. When he tried to stand his feet were swept out and his back crashed against the stone. A stabbing pain traveled down Sam's spine. More and more kicks were rained on his frail body, each becoming more erratic and violent. Blows were spread all over his body; striking his backside, cracking his ribs, smashing his face. When he was roughly turned on his belly Sam panicked and attempted to flee. As he felt Frodo lower his body onto his back Sam cried out, bucking wildly. Frodo pressed his lips into Sam's ear.

"You know, if you were not so damned ugly, I would tear my way inside you, shred your softest tissues, just to watch your face twist in agony," he hissed. "No, I think I will leave that up to the orcs. After all, they have already claimed you as their whore. Tomorrow, I will throw you into the courtyard and watch as they claw at you, beat you, tear you apart. Then, just when you think death is approaching, your body will be healed so they can do it all over again and again and again until the end of time."

"You cannot do this me," Sam groaned, spitting up blood.

"Oh, but I can, Sam," Frodo chuckled. "Have you forgotten already? You are mine to do with as I please. The pact we made is binding. There is no escape for you. There is no escape for me. For the rest of your days you will remain here. The both of us will remain here. Welcome to hell, friend."

White, hot pain flashed through Sam's body. A knife had slid underneath his back, slowly making its way up. He was being skinned alive. He closed his eyes and waited for a death that would never come. He really was in hell.

More to follow.


	6. A Chance for Escape

Once again, Sam was alone, no longer in the cell but trapped in the courtyard. An hour had passed since the _activities _had taken place but the signs of the past events were scattered all over him. Bite marks, stab wounds, burns covered practically every inch of his body. A layer of flesh was missing from his back. He shuddered at the memory of Frodo sliding the blade underneath his skin and pulling, pulling until it slowly lifted off. Now, Sam was huddled against a pillar, sitting in a pool of his own blood and other fluids. He looked up to the sky, hoping to find something to take his mind off the events. There was nothing to sooth him. The sky was red, covered in thick, black clouds that drowned out the sun. 

'I bet The Shire is beautiful at this time of year,' he thought. 'I miss the clear blue sky, I miss my garden....I miss Frodo. What I would give just to be back in The Shire one more time. I wish things could return to normal. Just like old times, even for a little while.' Tears welded in his eyes. 'But I suppose it will never happen now. I am trapped. There is no escape for me. No relief, no hope. Everything has been shattered. To think, I actually had hope in this mission. I actually believed Frodo and I could walk into Mordor and destroy The Ring. I should have known better.'

He gazed back down. A light glimmer caught his eye. As his head rose he found a sword lying on the ground. Slowly, he began to crawl toward it, not caring that he was scraping his flesh on the pavement. Anger swept through him, giving him the rush of adrenaline he needed to continue forward. Driving him on were thoughts of Frodo; remembering that past hour.

*

__

Thrown to the ground, Sam gazed about wildly. Dazed from the loss of blood he only had the strength to roll on his back. Orcs surrounded him, leering and laughing, but kept a minimal distance. Above him, on the balcony, stood Frodo. He gazed down at Sam, his face contorted with rage. 

"I wish you would change your mind," Frodo said. "Why must you make this so difficult? Things are only going to become worse for you if you continue to disobey me." His demeanor softened. "I am only looking out for your best interests. There is but one option for you, give in. If you would do that I might lessen the pain for you. Remember that you willingly made the pact. You are mine and should follow my bidding. All you are is a slave now; accept it."

"As I have said many times, master, I will never follow you," Sam growled. "In the end I will die one way or another."

"Oh, but that is where you are wrong, my friend," Frodo hissed. "As long as I still draw breath, so will you. And as long as you still show disobedience, you will still be punished. You shall break. I will see to that."

In an instant the orcs were upon him clawing and gashing. His trousers were shredded in a minute, leaving him vulnerable and nude in their presence. Sam looked up to his master in a silent plea. Frodo only smiled down at him as the dark shapes of the orcs drowned his image out. At the sight of impending doom, something snapped inside Sam. For days he had been beaten and starved and he could not bear the thought of another brutal attack. For once he fought back. He bit, clawed, and scratched at anything that moved by him. Although he managed to injure a few there were still too many. In moments he was overtaken.

"You should not struggle, Sam," Frodo said. "That will only make it worse for you but I suppose you already have. It upsets the orcs so much when a captive fights back, especially when that captive takes a chunk of flesh from their leg. I hope, in time, you will learn not to struggle. For that outburst, you shall remain out here an extra hour."

"Please, master, not again!" Sam wailed. "I beg of you, put an end to this! I cannot take anymore of this torture!"

"I know," Frodo cruelly laughed.

On several occasions he was brought near the brink of death. One of the orcs had slit his throat while the other proceeded in gutting him. Darkness had closed over his eyes but always he found himself waking back up into the nightmare, with Frodo smiling down at him, with Frodo taking pleasure in his misery. In the end he found himself screaming for mercy or death, or even both. As usual Frodo stared down at him with a wide grin.

*

Sam continued to crawl along the stone surface. He was closing in on the blade. Other thoughts swarmed into his mind bring tears to his eyes.

*

__

A groan came from Sam as the last of the orcs pulled away from him. They left the courtyard lapping at the blood that stained their fingers. Only one form was left hovering over him. Frodo. He knelt to the ground and slid his hands through Sam's drenched curls.

"I almost feel sorry for you," Frodo said. "I cannot imagine the pain you must be going through. It almost makes me want to cease your misery. Then, I remind myself that you are bringing all this upon yourself. If you would only stop resisting me then I would consider letting you live at ease."

"Why are you doing this to me?" Sam asked. "I have done nothing to you to deserve this. Why do you hate me?"

"Sam, we have been over this many times," Frodo sighed. "I suppose I should not be angry with you. After all, there is not much of a brain inside that skull of yours."

"But I am your friend," Sam cried. "We have been through so much together. You cannot turn you back on me like this."

"Correction, you were my friend but times have changed," Frodo said. "Oh, wait, what am I saying that for? You were never my friend, you were a servant. The only reason we went through so much together was because I did not have the heart to dismiss you. You always followed me around, never letting me have a moment's rest."

"If you found my company so annoying then why did you not tell me so?" Sam sobbed.

"I never said I did not enjoy it," Frodo said, his voice softening. "I am only stating the facts. You are a pest, Sam, and you will always be one. We had our times together I admit but, as I said, that was the past and this is the future. I cannot dwell on the past. So much is at stake right now. As we speak there is a rebel army approaching Barad-dur. Apparently, Aragorn escaped the clutches of the orcs. I do not understand how he managed to elude death. I could have sworn I watched him die as the orcs pierced his back. Ah well, I will have to punish the captain of the army. There is no room for failure."

Hope shined in Sam's eyes. If Aragorn still lived then all might be saved.

"Oh, do not think such things," Frodo snapped, reading Sam's thoughts. "I will take care of him soon enough, believe me. Once I get my hands on him there will be no escape. I will make certain he perishes this time. Of course, it will be a slow one but, nonetheless, he shall end up dead along with his ridiculous army. And you, Sam, shall have the pleasure of watching. Would you enjoy that?"

"You know I would not," Sam moaned. 

"Yes, I suppose it would not," Frodo said. "Then again, that is why I enjoy forcing you. I think I will leave you to your thoughts now. Enjoy your momentary peace while you still can. You will not receive many intervals of freedom such as this."

"Thank you, master," Sam murmured.

Frodo's eyebrow cocked, he seemed uncomfortable with the statement but nodded nonetheless. "You're welcome." The response was more of a grunt then a statement.

"Master, you still not have answered me on one matter," Sam said. "Why do you hate me?"

Frodo turned his back as he strolled down the path. "Because you are still innocent."

*

In his hands he held the sword from the ground. The long blade was pitch black with silver inscriptions along the butt end. It was a Morgul blade. He knew not how it came there but he did not care. His hands began to shake as he took hold of the butt end. When his fingers grazed across the cool steel a voice raged inside his head.

__

Do it Sam. There is no hope left for you. If you do not complete this act you will face a lifetime of suffering. It would be so easy to finish the deed right now. Look around you Sam, there is no one around. By the time they would find you, you would already be passing. You know of the poison that pulsates in that sword. Only athelas can heal that and Middle-earth has been ravaged. They would never be able to salvage what that blade pierces. Do it Sam.

Sam fingered the tip of the sharp steel while pondering. Indeed, there was no one around so it would be easy enough to take care of. But the idea did not appeal to him. Since day one in the tower he had thoughts of ending his life yet he always hoped that there would be another way out. He knew there was no further time to debate the matter. In the distance he could hear approaching footsteps. The blade faced his lower abdomen and he drew it back, ready to sheath it.

"What is the meaning of this?!" a voice roared.

Sam spun around and shook in fear. Frodo was standing in the doorway.

"I give you time to rest, time to be away from torment and this is how you repay me?!" Frodo screamed. "Did you actually think that I would not know what you are up to? I can read your thoughts even miles away if I wanted to, friend. Did you actually believe you could pull this off, let alone think I would allow it? Put down the sword."

The sword remained in Sam's hands.

"If you keep disregarding my orders I will put you through a far worse agony then you suffered today," Frodo snapped.

Sam slowly backed away.

Frodo's eyes blazed but changed his voice to a more soothing one. "Please, Sam, place the blade on the ground. I promise I will not punish you for this. You are delirious from your wounds. Come to me and I will heal all that ails you. Please, come to me, my friend. I give you my word that I will not harm you." 

"No, Mr. Frodo," Sam said. "I think I shall remain where I am. I am not going to fall for you trickery. The moment I place this sword to the ground and come near you, you will attack me. Do not try to deny it. I know you too well by now."

Frodo laughed. "Sam, if I so desperately wanted you to drop the sword do you not think that I could just bend your will to do it. If I wanted to attack you I would have done so already. Now, drop the sword and come to me."

Sam's grip tightened. "No."

"I said, come here," Frodo growled.

"And I, master," Sam began, "said no."

He turned his back, leaving the sword pointing to the outside. In the corner of his eye he could see Frodo rushing toward him. He tried to turn the blade to face him but his hand wavered. This was not the way he wanted things to end. He glanced one final time at the sky before gazing back down at the ground. Frodo's form was advancing closer.

__

"Frodo, master, forgive me," Sam whispered in despair, clenching his eyes shut.

He felt cold hands come up to tighten over his own. Then, in response, he thrust the long knife home.

More to follow.


	7. Freedom

****

Warnings: Character death.

Everything seemed to move slowly as Sam swung the blade. A strangled cry echoed throughout the courtyard as the sword met its mark. For a moment, Sam stood silently, shaking. The only sound made in the yard was the dripping of blood. Sam gazed down at the ground. On the pavement sat a bloodied finger. There was slight glimmer of gold; it was Frodo's ring finger. He took a step toward it but ceased.

"Sam," a mere whisper.

The hobbit glared at the fallen form. Frodo was lying on the pavement grasping at his bleeding hand. Sam took a step back, expecting the other hobbit to burst into outrage. Frodo gazed up at Sam and immediately Sam's face softened. There was no hate in Frodo's eyes, no darkness covering his face, only a tired look and a weak smile. Sam had his old master back. Frodo extended his arms to him.

"Oh, Mr. Frodo!" Sam cried. He rushed forward, dropped the blade, and hugged his master. "You are back. You are really back. Oh, my master."

"Sam, Sam," Frodo murmured, holding him tightly. "I am so sorry. My dear Sam, I am amazed you would show me such affection after all....after all...."

"Do not speak about it," Sam said, pressing his finger on Frodo's lips. "You were possessed by The Ring. It was not your fault."

"But it was my fault, Sam," Frodo sighed. "I could have fought the temptation but like a coward I gave in. It was too powerful to resist; _His _temptation was too much. I should have been able to fight it. Now I have ruined all of Middle-earth, slaughtered thousands of innocent people. My God, my cousins. My dear cousins." 

Frodo broke then. He wept bitterly as Sam tried to quiet him.

"Do not fret over it, Mr. Frodo," Sam said. "I am sure everything will work out for the best. We can work out the differences later. We have other things to worry about at this time. Besides, the important thing is that you are all right now. I will bandage your wound and we can resume our mission. Of course that is easier said then done. We must elude the orcs but I suppose that matter can wait for the moment."

"Sam," Frodo said.

"I must find a bandage," Sam said. "Oh, where could I get one?"

"Sam," Frodo continued.

"Wait, I think I have....."

"Sam!" Frodo yelled, grasping Sam's hands.

"What is it Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked.

"Sam, something is happening to me," Frodo whimpered. "I was fine before but now something is wrong. I can feel a force surging through me. Something is trying to bend me."

Sam blinked, staring silently for a moment, but frightened nonetheless. "I do not understand. What are you trying to say, master?"

Frodo looked at Sam sternly, fierce determination swirling in his blazing eyes. "The Ring, Sam. The Ring is beckoning me. I can hear _Him_, Sam. I can feel _Him_ trying to manipulate me." 

Sam shuddered, jerked back, and tried to rise. Frodo grabbed him and held him in place.

"Look at me," said Frodo.

Sam tried and could not. "Let me go Mr. Frodo!"

Then everything came crashing within him, and he began to cry. His cry was silent, only his heaving shoulders giving himself away. Sam closed his eyes and fought back against the rage swelling inside him. It was not supposed to be this way. No, his master was back and after all this time he could not possibly lose him. He knew all too well what Frodo had planned. He would not be a part of this deed. He reopened them to glare down at other hobbit. There was a dark confidence radiating from his face. He was unable to keep eye contact and glanced at the ground.

"I cannot lose you Mr. Frodo," Sam whispered. "I cannot bear it."

Frodo's hands clasped his. "Look at me Sam. I fear that you have already lost me. Now, look at me."

Taking a deep breath, Sam did so.

"Look into my eyes," Frodo murmured.

He did. He looked down into the soul of his oldest and most trusted friend. A wicked, icy glimmer looked back.

"It is starting again," Frodo sighed. "The power of The Ring is taking hold of me once more."

Sam shook his head in furious denial.

"I cannot let myself be taken, Sam," Frodo whimpered. "I cannot stand to think of returning to that hell, to _His _hell. But I cannot do it alone. You have to help me do this act."

"No," Sam cried. "No."

One hand slipped across the ground and pulled the sword to him. Sam shuddered and drew back, but Frodo grabbed his wrist and forced the butt end of the blade into his palm.

Frodo ran his other hand across Sam's cheek. "There is no more time for us. The friendship we had was wonderful and I would never trade our time spent together for anything. I do not regret a moment of it. I am proud of you, Samwise. Throughout this journey you have been my strength. If you had not accompanied me I would have never made it this far. I would have been lost without you. And still you are your own person, stayed the same even though the hell I have put you through. I can only hope and pray that one-day you will forgive the heinous acts I have inflicted on you. I love you, Samwise, my servant, but more over, my friend. I only ask that you help me complete this deed. There is nothing more that can be done. Our time here is finished."

Sam could not breathe; he could not see clearly. He felt nauseated and froth began to seep down his chin. "Oh, God, no! You cannot ask this of me! You cannot!"

"I have to!" Frodo snapped. "There is no one else. No one I could depend upon to do it right. Do you really think an orc could complete such a deed?"

"No!" He dropped the sword as if it had seared his skin. "I would rather," Sam choked, "be dead myself! I will not lose you Mr. Frodo! I have you back. You are normal again."

Frodo heard the desperation in Sam's voice. "Oh, my dear Sam. I know you mean well, but I fear that I am far from normal. The power of The Ring has destroyed my soul and I shall never be the same. My dear friend, please, do this for me."

Frodo reached down for the sword and placed it back in Sam's hands. Sam shook his head over and over, silently wording no, no, please no. He touched Sam chin and lifted his face, drawing his eyes once more to his own. Frodo's blue orbs had turned icy and glazed over, the wicked gleam now more pronounced, stronger.

"I am slipping back, Sam. I am being stolen from myself. You have to hurry before it is too late. Do it quickly. Do not let me become that monster again. I...I...." He was unable to finish, his hands shaking over Sam's. "You can do it. I cannot trust myself into doing it. I might....blotch it. I need you. Only you could make it as painless as possible."

Sam's muscles became tight, he could barely move. He glanced over his shoulder and into the sky desperately searching for any signs of help but he knew it was all in vain. He was trapped. There was no escape from this.

"There must be some other way!" Sam sobbed, his words frantic. "We could journey to Mount Doom and throw The Ring away. Once The Ring has disappeared into the cracks you will return to normal. You will be your old self again in no time." Tears were streaming, his vision blurry. "There is no need for this Mr. Frodo. I can save you! I do not care what you say! I can help you become normal again! Things can still be as they were! I know I can save you!"

Frodo's hands shook him. "There is but one way to save me Sam. Besides, the likelihood of me surviving such a perilous journey, especially the shape I am in, is slim. Further more, I would never allow you to throw The Ring into the fire. I would fight you to death and you know it. And even if you were to leave me here I would hunt you down once I gained all my strength back. There is nothing else that can be done. Let it go. Let me go. Help me. Take the sword and use it."

"No!" Sam wailed.

"You have to," Frodo moaned, stroking Sam's cheeks. Even in pain he rose in a sitting position and brought his face to Sam's. He kissed Sam on the nose and rubbed their foreheads together in a rocking motion. For a moment they remained locked in a tight embrace, crying on each other, rocking each other, soothing each other. It was the happiest moment Sam had felt in a long time, to be this close to his master, but it was not to last. "Please, Sam, you must do this. I know this must be difficult for you but it has to be done. Please, complete this task. You can do this. Only you can save what is left of Middle-earth. I know the journey will be strenuous but you are strong and can survive, even if you must do it alone."

"No!" Sam screamed, trying to squirm away.

"Please, Sam, you must!" Frodo yelled, tightening his hold. "You must take care of this before it is too late! Do it before I change back! Do it while you are still able!"

"No," Sam groaned. "Please, do not make me do this. I love you Mr. Frodo. I cannot do this to you. You are all I have left in this world."

Frodo's hand swept up suddenly as if to strike Sam and instinctively he reacted. He brought up the sword over Frodo's chest to counter the attack, hovering inches from his heart. Their eyes locked. For a moment Sam saw the terrible recognition. Frodo was transforming before him. The soft face had become gnarled and his eyes dark, menacing. It stunned Sam and he held his breath.

"Quick Sam," Frodo hissed.

He did not move. Frodo took Sam's hand and gently lowered it until the tip of the blade was resting against his chest.

"Do it Sam," Frodo said.

"No," Sam said.

This time Frodo did strike. It took Sam off guard and fell to the ground clutching at his stinging cheek. Sam stood back up and sobbed.

"Do it Sam," Frodo said, tears staining his cheeks. "I do not want to do that to you again. I hate causing you pain but I will do whatever it takes to make you do this."

"I do not care," Sam cried. "You could beat me to a bloody pulp and I still would not do this."

Frodo raised his hand again but soon lowered it. "I suppose you would not."

Sam could only let a sob. He clenched his eyes shut and fought the onslaught of tears. He began to shake his head back and forth.

"Sam, help me," Frodo pleaded desperately. "Please, my friend. I know you do not want to do this but you know in your heart there is no other way. You have to do it for the good of Middle-earth and yourself."

"No," Sam muttered, furiously wiping at his eyes. "No good can come out of this."

"Please, help me," Frodo said, drawing closer.

He looked into Frodo's eyes then, deep inside, and into the icy haze that was consuming him. The power of The Ring was gnawing at his mind. Sam suddenly forgot the terror he had lived through the past few days. He remembered the old days in The Shire. He remembered how he used to run in the fields as child alongside Frodo and his cousins. He remembered how Frodo helped when he cut his hand while gardening, the sheer gentleness of the touch. He remembered those lonely nights on their journey when they huddled together and told each other tales to pass the time.

He felt Frodo's breath on his face. He felt the closeness he once found familiar and comforting. He felt a pair of hands circling around his neck.

"Mr. Frodo," Sam whispered in despair.

He rammed the steel into Frodo's chest. As the blade sheathed itself within Frodo he laid down to the ground. He made no noise, only his face gave everything away. But there was no look of pain, only one of peace and release. Although he spoke no words Sam could see the unsaid thank you in Frodo's eyes. Frodo took one final breath and moved no more. Tears were forming in Sam's eyes again. He ran his hand across Frodo's face as he held the listless form in his arms. 

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked. Finally, realization came crashing down in waves on Sam. Frodo was dead.

He broke then. The courtyard was soon full of cries, obscenities, and pleas. He found himself rocking back and forth with his face buried in Frodo's damp curls, drenched from his tears. For hours he remained seated with Frodo's body until he was finally able to tear himself away.

"I am sorry master," Sam cried. "I am sorry that I do not have time to give you a proper burial. I have to go to Mount Doom now. Even if I must go alone, I will complete this mission for you, for all of us. I doubt I will return but, if by some small miracle, I do survive I will return for your body. If I can help it Barad-dur shall not be your final resting-place. I can only hope the orcs do not lay waste to your body with my departure."

He rose from the ground, sheathed the sword in his belt, and slowly strolled toward the bloodied finger. The Ring still shined in the light. Sam found himself enticed by the glimmer. The Ring looked so appealing to him. He reached down to run his fingers across the metal. Instantly, a jolt shot through him but when he expected pain he found a strange pleasure. The Ring was soon torn away and the finger thrown aside. Sam rubbed it back and forth in his palm, his eyes glazing from the energy surging inside him. The closer he brought The Ring to the tips of his fingers, the urge to slip it on grew. In the corner of his eye Sam could see Frodo's body. The urge dissipated and the murky haze followed. Cursing, he placed The Ring in his trouser pocket. 

"God help me," he whimpered. "It is bad enough I will make this journey alone but now I have the lure of The Ring to deal with as well. I will not succumb to it though. No, I will complete this mission for Frodo."

He moved over to the body and kissed the cold forehead. "Good-bye, my dear master. I hope at last that you have found peace. You and I shall not be alone for long I suppose. I may join you yet but, hopefully, after I destroy this accursed object." He gave Frodo's hand a final squeeze and used a dirty sheet to cover his form. "Good-bye."

Sam ran from the courtyard numb from grief and half blind from tears. As he fled he was so consumed with emotion that he failed to notice a presence watching over him. It was a shape, shrouded in darkness, hiding on the balcony. It gave chase, keeping itself a fair distance from the running hobbit.

More to follow. 


	8. Pale Eyes

As Sam stepped into the wilderness he suddenly wished that he could stay in the confines of Barad-dur. The wind was picking up, blowing sand into his watering eyes and scorching his face with bitter heat. In the distance he see the shape of Orodruin spitting fire. It almost made him turn back. Then, he remembered the promise he gave Frodo; he remembered eluding the orcs. No, after all the misery and trouble he had gone through it would be pointless to lay down and give up. He tried to push the doubt and fear out of his mind but it kept seeping in. He moved slowly, forcing his feet forward with every step.

'Come now, Samwise,' he told himself. 'Keep yourself moving. You know you cannot linger in this area.'

A distant shriek made him shudder. 'Once the wraiths and orcs discover Frodo's body they will start ransacking the place for me. I can only hope to gain a fair distance before they start searching this wasteland.'

Above him the sky began to darken and the intense heat began to dissipate. 

"Wonderful," he muttered. "Of all the times I could have left it had to be during nightfall. Now instead of dealing with the heat I have to deal with the bitter cold. I suppose I will have to find some sort of shelter. Besides, I feel as if I will not be able to travel the rest of the night. The last thing I need to do is fall asleep out in the open. Then I would be joining Frodo all too soon."

He journeyed over the bridge and left the paved road to venture into barren land. When he thought he was a safe distance from the tower Sam began to search for possible shelter. Within minutes he found a shallow cave and collapsed to the floor. He tightly wrapped a cloak around his body and drifted into uneasy slumber. Unaware to him a dark shape sat looming over the entrance, only peering but not yet making a move to enter. It knelt down, pondering what its next actions would be. The figure seemed to come to a decision and it slowly began to inch deeper and deeper into the cave. 

A low moan came from Sam. A burning sensation was forming on the side of his hip. The pain roused from the short sleep and his fingers fumbled into the trouser pockets. Immediately he pulled The Ring out and the burning on his lower body subsided. However, the searing pain spread all over his fingers causing him to howl and flay. The Ring fell to the ground letting out a loud clink.

The figure huddled to the wall of the cave and stared down at the glimmering gold. It remained still, staring, hypnotized, for the moment.

For a moment Sam glared down at the object, unable to bring himself to pick it up. Soft footsteps echoed in the cave. Sam jerked, spun around, and backed up from the entrance. He slid his hand across the floor to reach for the sword. As he did so the hobbit's fingers grazed over The Ring. A sudden jolt surged through his body forcing a scream from his mouth. His fingers dove into the ground allowing The Ring to slide over the tip of his finger.

"Sam."

Sam found himself running into darkness but it soon gave way to light. A soft breeze grazed across his face and he smelled a familiar scent of pine. His eyes focused and he saw ranging hills and small forms working in fields. He was home in The Shire. In the distance he heard a faint voice, recognized it, and moved toward it. 

"Sam."

That voice again, familiar yet not. Sam turned and glanced at the soft earth to view Frodo lying on his back. He rose from the ground and stretched his arms out in welcome. Tears of relief trickled down his cheeks as he knelt next to his master.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked. "Wh-I do not understand this. What has taken place? Why am I here?"

"Does it matter, Sam?" Frodo asked. "We are back home again and things are as they were." Frodo frowned. "I thought it would it please you to be home once again. What ever is the matter?"

Sam wiped at his eyes. "Oh, I am grateful to be here, master. It just...it just does not seem to be real if you understand me. It feels too good to be true. What magic brought me here?"

Frodo smiled. "But it is real, Sam. It matters not how it came to be only we have the rest of our lives to be at peace. You never have to worry about anything ever again."

"We have plenty to worry about though, Mr. Frodo," Sam sighed. "I know it is a miracle to be home but I will be unable to stay. I have yet to destroy The Ring. I will have to leave The Shire and return to Mordor."

A change came over Frodo's face, his features darkened. "Ah, yes, The Ring. I assume you still have it on you. May I see it, please?"

Sam began to inch away. "I do not think that would be wise, Mr. Frodo."

Before Sam could go any further, Frodo latched onto his arm and pulled him back. His blue eyes were shining madly. "And why is that, friend? I only want to look at it once more before you....destroy it. I will not take it from you. I would never do such a thing to dampen your trust of me."

"Mr. Frodo, you are hurting my arm," Sam gasped, wincing in pain. "Let me go sir."

Frodo ignored his words. "Why will you not permit me to view The Ring? I already told you I would not take it. Let me see it."

"No," Sam said, attempting to free his arm. The grip began to tighten and he forced himself to keep from panicking. "Release me, Mr. Frodo."

Frodo leaned into Sam's ear and hissed. "I will not, not until you show me The Ring."

"No," Sam repeated.

When Sam felt Frodo's hand beginning to search his body, he struggled to free himself. Soon he found himself thrown on his back and pinned under Frodo's weight. Hands were roaming over his body, searching over and under his shirt and finally heading toward his trouser pocket. Sam tensed as the hand slowly made its way in. Sam tried to throw Frodo off but was rewarded with a hard fist in his abdomen. He grunted in pain.

"Where is it?" Frodo growled. "I know you have it somewhere on you. Tell me where!"

"Mr. Frodo, please," Sam moaned.

A smirk formed on his face when he saw Sam squirm. "Oh, so you are hiding it one of your pockets, aren't you? Well, since it is not in this one it must be in the other."

Frodo's hand snaked toward the other pocket. Immediately Sam bucked and sent Frodo sprawling. The hobbit shot back up glaring fiercely at Sam. His fists clenched tightly.

"I see how it is now," Frodo spat. "You would keep it for yourself!"

"Mr. Frodo no!" Sam wailed. "I have no intentions of keeping the cursed thing! I only wish to rid Middle-earth of it."

"I cannot allow you do such a thing," Frodo snarled. "Now, be a good little hobbit and give me back what is rightfully mine."

A realization suddenly dawned on Sam. This creature before him was not his master. Slowly, he inched away and dark eyes followed his every movement. Instinctively he reached for his sword but found his belt empty.

"Whatever is the matter Sam?" Frodo asked. "You should not fear me. I will not hurt you."

"Stay away from me," Sam hissed. "Whatever you are, stay away."

"That is no way to treat your master," Frodo snapped.

"You are not my master," Sam muttered.

Darkness seeped over Frodo's face. His eyes became downcast and the scenery around them began to shift. Without warning Sam no longer found himself in total darkness. Although he could see nothing he certainly felt a presence with him. He made an attempt to move.

__

Give it to me.

Sam froze. It wasn't a voice he heard but more of thought that raced through his mind. It sent chills down his spine and made his hair stand at end. His hand crept toward the trouser pocket. His eyes widened at the movement and he fought to stop.

__

Give me what is mine.

His hand encircled The Ring and he began to draw it out. He could feel the sweat forming on his brow from his efforts. Pain laced over his body while he slowly lost the grip on The Ring. His hands were replaced with others. Bony, slimy hands groped at his sides, nails digging into his flesh.

__

Give me The Ring.

He felt like screaming then but he could not force words from his lips. He began to flay like a mad thing. The hands dug deeper, piercing his soft flesh.

Sam awoke. A cold sweat had broken out all his body and his breaths came in ragged pants. There was the faintest sound of scuttling feet from behind. Sam's breaths caught in his throat. His heart rate increased pounding like a drum in his chest and his face became flushed. As the intruder inched closer a familiar scent blew by him. The scent of dead things. Sam moved his hand cautiously to his belt and then remembered. The sword was no longer there but a few feet in front of him. The footsteps became louder, closer. Sam turned his head to gain a better view of the side of the cave. Pale eyes and warm, stale breath to the back of his neck greeted him. He recognized the intruder all too late. When he drew out the sword back teeth sank into his wrist, eliciting a sharp scream. The sword was dropped and Sam was pressed face first into the stone surface.

"No, no!" Sam yelled. "You are dead! I saw you fall into the cracks and consumed by the fire!"

"Hisss! Not dead, not dead," Gollum growled. "We fall, yes, very close to the fire after nasty hobbit hurt us. But we held onto the rocks and climbed our way out. Yes, my Precious. Nasty, wicked hobbit broke most our teeth but we manage, yes we do. We have searched for the Precious for days. No food or rest. Only rocks and dust, dust and rocks. So hungry." 

"What do you want from me you foul creature?" Sam snapped, squirming.

"Give it to us," Gollum hissed. "Give the Precious back to Gollum. Yes, give the Precious back to us. The Precious belongs with us."

"Get off me you vile thing!" Sam screamed. 

Gollum slid his hands around Sam's neck causing the hobbit to squeak in fear. He was soon gasping for air as the clammy hands began to tighten around his airway. "We will take the Precious from you. Hisss. What right does the nasty hobbit have in keeping if from us? Where does the hobbit hide it? Does the hobbit have it somewhere in its jacket, on its neck, or perhaps in its pockets?" Gollum gazed about. "Maybe on the dirty ground?"

"No, no!" Sam cried, drawing Gollum's attention. "I do not have it! Frodo has it back in Barad-dur! I escaped from the tower!"

The statement earned Sam a scrape across his shoulder. "Wicked hobbit is trying to cheat us!" Gollum spat. "We saw everything back in the tower! We saw you take the Precious." He licked his lips. "We saw you kill the other hobbit. Yes, we saw you cut his finger off and then drive cruel steel into his chest and you took the Precious. Yes, you took the Precious from him to keep for yourself."

Tears seeped down Sam's cheeks. "I did no such thing. I never intended to take The Ring for myself."

"You killed the other hobbit though," Gollum continued, preying on Sam's weakness. "We saw it, you cannot deny it. You killed the other hobbit in cold blood."

"I had no choice," Sam sobbed. "He was turning and he forced me."

"He never forced you, no," Gollum said. "We saw, you did it of your own free will. Killed your own master. Killed for the Precious....just like us."

Fury rose up in Sam. "I am nothing like you, you miserable wretch! I wish to destroy your Precious, not keep it! And I will be rid of it just as I will be rid of you if you do not release me!"

"We cannot allow that," Gollum hissed. "No, we will allow no such thing. The Precious will leave with us, one way or the other. Give it to us, now."

"I already gave you my answer!" Sam yelled, bucking wildly.

The grip around his throat tightened. "We will take the Precious soon but not before we eat. So hungry. So hungry." His mouth touched the nape of Sam's neck. "Does it taste good, my Precious? Does the hobbit taste good?"

Sam felt his insides curl in disgust as Gollum fastened his lips around the bite wound, gently suckling on the flowing blood. The hobbit tried to crawl away, throw the creature off, even cry for help but it was all in vain. If he had not been weakened from lack of food, beaten down to almost nothing, then he might have been able to fight back. He soon gave up his struggles and lay helplessly on the cold floor. He welcomed the fate that the creature had in store for him.

More to follow.


	9. Into the Fire

"You disgusting creature," Sam hissed, feeling rough tongue against his skin.

"Not disgusting, not disgusting," Gollum argued. "We just needed a taste to satiate the hunger pain, though it doesn't help much, my Precious." 

"If you are going to kill me then be done with it!" Sam snapped. "Otherwise quite tormenting me!"

Gollum caressed Sam's neck, eliciting a shudder from the hobbit. "We cannot do that. Tricky hobbit has hidden the Precious from us. No, the hobbit is no good dead when he holds the secret. We can sense the Precious in here but we cannot see it." He moaned pitifully. "Weak, so very weak. We cannot find it on our own." His tinted glare returned to Sam. "Perhaps we will let you live if you give the Precious to us. Yes, tell us where the Precious is hidden." 

He turned his head and spat into Gollum's eyes.

The creature wiped furiously at his face and hissed. Gollum's hands tangled into Sam's curls and he drew the hobbit's head back, deathly close to snapping it. When it was as far as it could go, and Sam's cries grew desperate, Gollum rammed his head forward into the stone floor.

"Nasty hobbit!" Gollum growled. "We will make you tell. Yes, we have our ways of forcing you speak."

The hands around Sam's neck tightened further and he inhaled what he thought would be his last breath. Sharp teeth grazed across his flesh threatening to puncture. His hand slid across the stone floor and by sheer luck, it brushed over The Ring. The hobbit's eyes widened as he felt a surge of energy pass through him. With The Ring he could easily overtake Gollum and escape from the cave, yet, there was that lingering risk to lose control of himself. Thoughts raced back and forth inside Sam's mind. Put on The Ring, don't put on The Ring, put on The Ring, don't put on The Ring. He decided when the first fang sank into the side of his neck. He slid The Ring over his finger. 

Taken back by shock Gollum released his hold giving Sam the opportunity he needed. The creature howled and toppled over as Sam turned and rammed his fist on the side of his face. Sam staggered to his feet and grasped his fallen sword. He spun around and faced Gollum, only his sword visible in the murky light. Gollum was on his feet quickly and launched himself at Sam. The hobbit swung his sword and jumped aside, barely avoiding the anxious hands. Gollum turned and squatted on all fours, keeping a watchful eye on the moving blade. Sam stood his ground and let the creature come to him, then cut fast. Blood spurted from Gollum but that barely slowed him down. Grunting, Gollum reached for Sam. The hobbit leapt back and aside and Gollum followed closely. He swung defensively but Gollum managed to avoid the blow and slammed into the hobbit. Sam kept his grip on the sword as he fell and grunted in pain as he hit the stone floor. He rose as quickly as he could in time to see Gollum almost on top of him. Sam rolled to the side as Gollum came crashing to the floor tearing wildly at the air. The blade rose in the air and struck Gollum again, this time landing a blow in the shoulder. The creature hissed in pain and held its seeping wounds. Gollum vanished into the shadows leaving Sam in momentary peace.

'Well, I suppose I showed him a thing or two,' Sam thought smugly. He removed The Ring from his finger. 'I have other things to worry about now. I can only hope the orcs have not started their search yet.' He rubbed The Ring in his palm. 'Oh, but what am I to do? I should leave immediately but I despise the idea of leaving that creature alone only cause more mischief. If I do not finish him off now he will surely hunt me down again to attempt to steal The Ring. But I do not know where he is. Perhaps I should not worry over it. He will not survive long with the injuries I have inflicted on him. If, by chance, he does survive I will deal with him then.'

Sam picked up his cloak and wrapped it around his neck. Sheathing his sword he walked toward the cave entrance. He made it halfway when he heard the growling and huffing of Gollum from behind. He made to turn but something exploded from the shadows and attacked him. Pain rushed along his arm, and he saw blood trickle down his sleeve. There was a gashing of teeth and claws. He cried out and pushed at the creature that was clinging to him. He couldn't reach his reach his sword. Sharp nails grazed across his cheek eliciting another cry from him. Desperate for any method of escape, he raised his hands and pressed his index finger against Gollum's right eye. With a forceful push his finger punctured the eye and the hold on him was released. Howling and clawing at his eye, Gollum dashed out of the entrance disappearing into the night. For a moment Sam braced himself against the wall trying to calm his breathing and his racing heart but it was soon beating fast again. In the distance he could faintly hear the call of a trumpet. He recognized it and ran.

The night air was piercing cold as he ran. A light mist was beginning to form over the barren land and Sam traveled into it hoping to set his pursuers off track. He gazed down at his arm and found that he was bleeding heavily, which left a noticeable trail on the stone earth. He tore at a portion of his cloak and tied it around the open wound. His mouth was becoming dry and his chest burned as he gulped for air. His strength was beginning to fail. He turned his head to gaze behind and tumbled abruptly. When he regained his composure he found himself in a short drop. In front of him stood a large split in the rock leading to darkness. Another trumpet called, this time much closer. Sam hesitated a moment and then darted into the cleft. He brought up his hands as the darkness closed over him, groping to find his way. When he thought himself a far distance, barely seeing the light from the entrance, he crouched down to wait. His fingers dipped into his pocket and played anxiously with The Ring.

Seconds later he heard the sound of his pursers. There was patter of feet at the entrance and Sam panicked. He placed The Ring over his finger. He nearly screamed when he saw the massive horde of orcs in the entranceway but clamped his hand over his mouth. One was sniffing and moving further into the cleft. It kept moving; moving until it stood directly over Sam. The hobbit was frozen in place and winced, as the orc was about to step on him.

"Come back here!" the leader of the pack snapped. "The hobbit isn't down there. Nothing would be stupid enough to venture into here. Besides, a few more feet and there's a drop off leading into lava so you better watch your step! Come on now, you slug! We have limited time here!"

"Leave it to the trackers to send us in the wrong direction," an orc grumbled. The tracker bared his teeth at the orc who, in turn, bared his too. "I don't see why we have to waste our time looking for such an insignificant hobbit. What does he posses that's so vital?"

"How should I know, eh?" the leader growled. "I'm never told the details of an assignment. I was just told to bring back the hobbit because he carries something important. I was also told to have him brought back alive. What he happens to carry is beyond me."

"Aw, what fun is there in bringing him back alive?" another complained.

"Keep quiet!" the leader barked. "You'll have your fun, all of you, I'm sure of that. But we have our orders for now and you know not to disobey _him._"

"Too bad the other one had to die so soon," one said. "I was beginning to like him. He turned the torture chambers into a real blood bath. Such a shame. He was being molded into a true killer" The orc scratched his chin. "I wonder why _he _allowed the hobbit such power in the first place. Seems like a foolish idea to me."

"Your opinion doesn't matter," the leader snarled. "You know better then to question _his _will. I don't understand it any better then you do. _He _had plans for the hobbit, for both of them, but what they were is beyond me."

An orc broke through the crowd and faced the leader. "There were signs of the hobbit in a cave south of here. His blood is all over the ground along with something else. There was a creature lurking in by there. I know him. He's the one we were having problems with a week ago. He was the one that kept trying to break into Barad-dur and when we were sent out to capture him he always eluded us. I can tell he's wounded. The way he was limping, the stink of his blood. What should we do about him?"

"You should have killed the blasted thing when you had the chance!" the leader screamed. The orc slashed the tracker across the throat and the tracker fell twitching to the ground. "Let this be a reminder to all of you! There is no room for failure on this mission! Our time here is running out! We are to have the hobbit by nightfall tomorrow! Time wouldn't normally be limited but we have an army invading the area and heading toward Barad-dur. We are to let nothing out of our sight! If you run across the demented creature, kill it! If you run across the hobbit, capture it and don't harm a hair on his body! Anyone that disobeys orders will suffer greatly! Now, move out!"

The orcs roared in agreement and vanished from the cleft. Sam let out a sigh of relief and slowly inched toward the entrance. He waited until the troop lumbered off and the sounds faded before taking off The Ring. He remained still and let time slip by before exiting the cleft. Sam kept a watchful on his surroundings but his mind drifted to other things. Thoughts fled back to his master and to the orc conversation, trying to make sense of it all.

For the rest of the night he traveled over the barren land, not knowing or caring about the distance he had gone. The night sky lightened and slowly began shift. Clouds formed overheard and once again he was left without the comfort of the sun. In the distance he could faintly hear horn calls but all soon drowned out giving him ease. The sky was starting to turn red and ash began to seep into his lungs, causing him cough violently. He was drawing closer to Orodruin and with every step he took the volcano became more menacing. He continued on pushing down the urge to scream for food or drink, pushing down the urge to lay on the earth and die. He was close now and after all this time, all the suffering; he would complete his task.

Hours passed, for him it felt like days, and the sky began to grow dark yet again. The day was fading and he would be left in bitter cold. He stumbled over a rock and came crashing to the ground. When he lifted his head a weak smile formed. He was at the base of the volcano. Sam rose to his hands and knees and started crawling up the steep slope, ignoring the jagged rocks that dug at his flesh and hanging on for dear life to keep from tumbling down. More time passed until he reached a small opening. Tears brimmed in his eyes as he recognized the entrance. He remembered entering there, trying to track his master. So caught up in his emotion the hobbit didn't notice a small troop movement at the base of Orodruin. The troop rushed forward at top speed, heading directly for the hobbit. Sam wiped at his eyes and pushed forward. Entering the darkness sent a chill down his spine. Instinctively, his hand slipped into his pocket. Flames from the crack shot into the air briefly lighting the dark passage. He hurried along when he suddenly stopped in cold fear. Ahead of him, illuminated by the shooting fire, stood Gollum. He was a miserable wreck. Blood had long since ceased flowing but, even in the darkness, Sam could see the forming puss of infection. The creature's eye was closed and seeping a clear liquid. Sam's fingers slid for The Ring. Gollum attacked then.

Sam was knocked down in a fury of claws and teeth. Gollum was all over him, clinging, tearing, and trying to reach for the hobbit's pocket. Sam kicked out violently and freed himself. His sword slashed out blindly, cut into something, then jerked free. He scrambled to his feet, trying to reach the crack but was thrown against the stone wall. Sam could feel gashes open on the back of his head and neck. Tears came to his eyes at the pain. He rolled clear and came to his feet, Gollum circling close behind. He tried to run but gnarled hands clutched roughly at him and held him in place.

The Ring was searing his lower abdomen like fire.

Burdened by the weight of the creature, and his failing strength, Sam began to fall. He knew all too well that if he fell he would not be able to get back up. He fought hard but was only gashed open on the shoulder and at the side of his belly. All reason fled from his mind and fear soon gave way to rage. Gollum was gnashing wildly at him, claws and teeth ripping, putrid breath against his skin. His hand plunged into his pocket and The Ring was inserted over his finger. There was an explosion of light and Gollum fell back hissing. Sam was free again. He threw his head back as power he had never felt before erupted inside of him, harsh and exhilarating. He was transformed and his fears of what he would become under The Ring's influence vanished. For a moment in time it made no difference to him who he was, the events that unfolded the last few days, or the reason why he had ventured here. The power was all that mattered to him now and the urge to display it was overwhelming. He stood and gazed down at the wretched creature. The light was swirling around him like a protective shield and Gollum tried to block his eyes from the intensity. Sam realized his purpose while glaring down at the creature.

He turned the force of the power on Gollum. The creature screamed in agony as the light swarmed over him, slowly roasting him alive. The light dissipated and all that remained of the creature was a pile of crisp bones and ash. He stood in awe of the power. Visions streamed over his mind, promising him wealth, leadership, happiness, and for a moment he was taken in by the dazzling sight. Other visions seeped in, weaker, almost drowned out completely by the stronger one. It was of Frodo, lying on the ground, wordlessly begging him. He suddenly understood. He closed his free hand over The Ring, and momentarily the visions ceased. The exhilaration of power left him, draining out in an instant. Weariness overtook him and felt ashamed. He had allowed The Ring to claim him, to snare him for its own purpose, to destroy his will to withstand its lure, to blacken the very root of his soul. He staggered, stepping over the ashes of Gollum, and entered the small opening. With tears streaming down his cheeks he made his way to the crack. As he walked it suddenly dawned on him. Even though he was wearing The Ring he was no longer invisible. A sob rose in his throat. The Ring really had claimed him.

He stood at the edge of the crack, staring into the spitting fire. Blood was spurting from almost every corner of his body and his head throbbed painfully. Placing his hand over the back of his head he found a gapping wound, deep enough that he could stick his finger in to almost touch bone. He was a mess; there was no denying it.

'What am I to do?' he sadly pondered. 'Even if I throw The Ring in there is no way I will ever reach Barad-dur again.' Tears formed and he choked. 'I am sorry, master, but it looks as if I will not be able to provide you with a decent burial. I hope you can forgive your Sam. I do not even know what I am going to do with myself.'

He continued to stare down at the fire when he heard a loud clink from behind. Spinning around he found the cave infested with orcs. He recognized the leader from the previous encounter.

"You, stand still!" the leader snapped. "Thought you could give us the slip, eh? Well, you should have thought better of us. We have our methods of tracking. Of course, your bleeding wounds helped quicken the pace. We probably never would have found you in time if it weren't for that. Now, be a good little hobbit and turn yourself over without a fight. I promise that me and my troop won't harm you. We have orders you know. Oh, and hand over whatever it is that you're carrying."

Sam glared at him and then back at the flames.

"Not a very good listener is he?" an orc growled. "Perhaps we should teach him a lesson in respect, eh?"

The Ring was burning Sam's hand. Tears streamed down as he fought the urge but he in the end he lost. The light was forming around him again and turned it toward the orcs. Instead of burning like Gollum, they blew into tiny bits. In mere seconds, they fell dead in a tangled bloody heap while some of their parts went spattering all over the walls. A few remained alive, without limbs, slowly bleeding to death, but all eventually wound up dead. Sam cried and shook his head at grotesque sight. He wanted no part in this type of power. He moved back to the crack and closed his eyes. Slowly he turned himself around so he was facing the entrance and not the lava below. A smile formed on his face at impending freedom; freedom of pain, freedom of sadness. He looked forward to it. 

He was still smiling when he allowed himself to fall back. His body traveled fast into the crack and he could feel the heat beginning to gnaw at his flesh.

"I just wish things could have ended differently," Sam said out loud, traveling closer to the lava. "I wish Mr. Frodo and I could have departed together and in peace. No pain. Just peaceful."

A single tear streamed down but quickly evaporated in the intense heat. He felt himself burn for a moment and then there was no more pain.

More to follow.


	10. No More Suffering

Sam blinked. He was no longer falling into the inferno but standing once again near the crack. Ahead of him stood his master, back facing him, staring down into the spitting fire. Although quite confused as to how he came to be there, joy surged throughout his body. There would be an opportunity to have a second chance in life, a second chance with his master. He ran forward crying out to Frodo. The hobbit turned and glanced back as Sam approached. Sam froze dead in his tracks. A familiar glint was shining in Frodo's eyes while he fingered at The Ring hanging round his neck. Sam began to back up, a cold sweat breaking out all over his body.

'No, no!' he screamed in his mind. 'This cannot be happening! I have only escaped from one hell to wind up in another! Everything is starting all over again! This is not what I wanted!'

Frodo turned back around and began to walk along the path. Sam tried to voice his plea when he was struck over the head. A form leapt over him as he fell to the ground grasping at his throbbing head. He lifted his head up and saw what he expected to. Gollum, once again, was wrestling near the crack's edge with an invisible foe. He teetered and nearly collapsed into the raging inferno but he managed to maintain his balance and pushed at Frodo. The creature gained more and more strength with its fear and insanity and struck out at the unseen force. There was a faint crashing noise and could guess that Frodo had been taken off guard and was now lying helplessly on the ground. Gollum wasted no time in taking advantage of the situation. He was soon on top of Frodo gnashing wildly. The creature's head tilted and whipped to the side as it was struck but that still couldn't throw Gollum off. A wheezing sound enveloped from Gollum's throat and he clutched at his throat, as if trying to remove something. Sam closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable.

"Help me Sam!" Frodo cried.

Sam's eyes shot back open. In front of him Gollum remained grasping at his throat but the one underneath causing it was still invisible. Tears began to form in his eyes and he closed them. "No, Mr. Frodo. I will not do such a thing."

"He will kill me!" Frodo yelled. "I cannot hold him off much longer you must help me! Sam, why will you not help me? I am your friend."

"Yes, you were, once," Sam choked, "but not anymore. I know The Ring has corrupted you and there is nothing I can do about it." His eyes clenched and he turned his head to the side. "Forgive me for what I am about to do." 

He turned his back completely and began to walk away from the cavern ignoring all pleas echoed to him. He would leave Frodo in the hands of the creature even though he knew he would hate himself for it later. His hand snaked around the butt of his sword. He would deal with Gollum afterwards and take back The Ring. A shriek rang throughout the walls of the crack forcing Sam to stop and look behind. Frodo was sprawled on the ground holding his bleeding hand and moaning in agony. Gollum stood over him triumphantly holding a bloodied finger with a ring in the air. He tore the finger away and caressed The Ring in his palm.

"Oh, my Precious," he crooned. "My Precious has come back to me, yes, my Precious."

Sam ran toward his master and gazed down at the fallen hobbit. Frodo's opened and glanced toward Sam. He nearly fell back at the sight. Frodo's blue orbs were soft, loving, nothing like the darkness that once possessed him. Sam knelt to the ground and ran his hand over Frodo's curls eliciting an appreciative smile from the hobbit.

"Master, my dear master," Sam sighed. "You are yourself again."

Frodo's smile grew and he patted at Sam's hand. "Yes, and I do believe I like it far better than that madness I was subjected to. I am so tired though and my hand pains me." He glared down at the wounded hand. "I suppose it is for the best. It was the only way to end it."

"Your poor hand," Sam cried. "Here I am sitting and doing nothing when you are in need of aide."

"Sam," Frodo stuttered, eyes wide.

"What is the matter, master?" Sam asked.

Sam looked up and found what Frodo was frightened of. He had been so overwhelmed with joy at his master's return he had entirely forgotten about Gollum and The Ring. The creature was gazing at them, wickedness gleaming in his eyes. Sam rose up and drew out his blade before stepping over Frodo, trying to shelter him from any possible attack. Gollum remained silent, staring as if thinking, only lapping at the blood that dribbled from his mouth.

"Put The Ring down on the floor and maybe I will consider letting you live, you foul thing," Sam growled.

"Nasty hobbit tries to take to take the Precious from us!" Gollum hissed. "We won't let the hobbit have it ever again. No, it belongs only to us!"

"If that is your decision, very well then," Sam said. 

Sam lunged forward and brought the sword down at Gollum. The creature managed to pivot to the right, barely missing the blade by mere inches, and then slamming his hand into the hobbit's back. Grunting in pain Sam fell to the ground, lost grip on the sword, and ended face first near the edge of the shooting flames. He crawled sideways, faced Frodo, and tried to rise but was pinned by Gollum's heavy weight. Sam fought to get the creature off of him but his strength had been drained from him. Gollum brought his face to Sam's ear breathing harshly.

"Now what will the nasty hobbit do?" Gollum taunted. "Such a weak creature it is, so very fragile. Just like the other hobbit. Once we have finished with you, we deal with the other hobbit. Yes, my Precious. We will him pay for the wretched time without the Precious all those years. He will suffer, yes Precious."

"You will stay away from him!" Sam barked, fury swelling.

"We will do no such thing," Gollum said. "Don't worry, no Precious. We will make it nice and slow for him as it was for us." He drew closer to Sam's ear. "Perhaps we will start by biting off his other fingers. It shall be a very sluggish death for him, yes." 

Something inside of Sam snapped from Gollum's words. His body jerked and thrust upwards forcing the creature to topple back into the crack but not before he yanked on Sam's cloak. In turn Sam found himself falling into the crack and reached out for any leverage and found a groove at the edge of the pathway. Sam's eyes just about bulged from his head as he felt the front of the cloak cutting into his throat. Gollum was still hanging on and the extra weight was starting to choke the life out of Sam. The Elven cloth began to sear at the creature's flesh. He couldn't handle the sharp pain and he released his hold of the cloak. Gollum head crashed against the jagged rocks and he disappeared silently into the depths along with The Ring. Sam was left grasping at the ledge, gasping for air, and trying to pull himself to safety. His grip was beginning to loosen. 

'At least I was able to save my master,' Sam thought.

The stone he held crumbled and his grip failed. He closed his eyes in wait of the perilous fall but when he expected doom he found salvation. His eyes opened and he saw Frodo hovering over him, gripping at his hand, and attempting to pull him on the ledge. Sam placed his hand on the edge and used the strength he had left to haul himself up while gripping Frodo's arm tightly. Frodo stumbled back taking Sam along with him. Both hobbits sighed in relief as they hit the stone floor.

"Oh, Mr. Frodo thank you!" Sam cried, hugging onto Frodo. He gazed down at Frodo's hand. "Master, your hand is bleeding worse. Did I do that to you? I am sorry I never meant---"

"Quiet Sam," Frodo said softly. "It was a small price to pay for your life. I wasn't about to sit by and watch you fall into the crack. I hope--" The fire rumbled beneath them and shot up into the air. "What is happening?!"

"The Ring has been destroyed so everything in Sauron's land will soon follow!" Sam yelled. "Come, master, we cannot linger here or the fire will consume us! I will guide you along as best I can."

The two were soon fleeing out the crack and back into the desolate land now turned an ugly red as the world around them shook. Sam glanced back to find the lava streaming from the top of the volcano. Frodo tugged at his arm and forced him to stop.

Sam gave Frodo a confused look. "Master we must continue on or the lava will be on us."

"The lava will have us no matter what we do Sam," Frodo sighed, eyes downcast. "I haven't the energy to continue on. My hand hurts so much."

"As you wish Mr. Frodo," Sam said. "I suppose there is no point in running. Even if we could outrun the lava where would we go? Besides, neither of us carry food or drink. We could never survive out there. What would do you wish to do master?"

"Let's just sit and rest for a bit," Frodo said. "It has been so long since I have felt at peace. I feel as if a great weight has been lifted from my heart but it also feels as if a great emptiness has replaced it."

Sam held Frodo tight against his chest. The lava flowed down the mountainside streaming closer and closer toward the two hobbits. Sam continued to gaze down into his master's eyes ignoring the pending death that drew closer by the minute. A smile formed on his face. He had gotten what he wanted. He was at his master's side. Heat rose around him and felt his skin begin to sizzle. 

"I do not understand how all this has come to be," Sam said, "but I guess we never will. I am grateful you have remembered nothing about before. It must have been painful for you to through all that my dear master. Everything will be fine now."

Frodo had passed out beneath him from the rising vapors. Sam looked up to the sky briefly seeing something fly toward him before he blacked out while feeling his flesh burn.

*

He awoke to a stinging sensation in his lower back and a deep burning in his lungs. Breaths came ragged and he found himself wheezing in effort. The room around him was unfamiliar and blurry shapes surrounded him but he didn't care for it didn't matter. His master was lying beside him and that was all that mattered. He recognized the feeling of Frodo's body and snuggled against him, content. Sam stretched his arm out and wrapped it around Frodo's shoulder. More of his vision came back and he saw his arm more fully. The skin, once creamy white, was now charcoal colored and oozing a clear liquid. The same was true with parts of Frodo's body. Wounds that matched Sam's were riddled across Frodo's neck and limbs. Even at the sight Sam smiled. The stinging on his body had vanished leaving him free from pain and the same appeared for Frodo as well. He was sleeping quite peacefully on the bed, lying perfectly still. Sam caressed Frodo's cheek frowning at the coolness and stiffness of the flesh.

Sam reached down and tugged at the sheets. "Now, do not worry about a thing Mr. Frodo. Your Sam is here. I will help you warm up." He pulled the sheet up to Frodo's neck and tucked it neatly. "There, does that feel better, master?" No answer. "I thought it would. You were ice cold Mr. Frodo and so very stiff. We cannot have you catching a bit of pneumonia, now can we?" No answer. "Perhaps you would like something to eat? I know it has been such a long time since you have eaten a proper meal. Would you like me to fetch you food and drink Mr. Frodo?" No answer. "Ah, yes, I suppose you will want to sleep a bit first. I am feeling a bit weary myself. I think I will just lie down next to you and sleep, just for a little bit. Do you mind master?" No answer. "I thought not."

Sighing he laid his head down on Frodo's stiffened shoulder and closed his eyes. In the background he could hear a voice yelling and several others sobbing. Something about trying to find athelas. Sam tuned the rest of the conversation out. Whatever the problem was he wasn't concerned about it. He was at his master's side and there was no more pain. Finally, after all the torment he had gone through, he had found peace. He felt himself slowly drifting off and his breathing became shallow. All sounds around him became drowned out. He faded further until he too became as silent, still, cold, and stiff as was Frodo beside him.

End.


End file.
